


Man Down

by BremenBunny



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Pacifist Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BremenBunny/pseuds/BremenBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2027. There is no "Aug Incident", but that doesn't stop Adam's world from falling apart all the same.  Fortunately, Pritchard is there to catch him every time he falls.</p><p>Only the prologue is canon-compliant.  All chapters afterward diverge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to skip the prologue if you've played the game recently, it was mostly just for me to practice my writing. Chapter "one" is where the divergence really starts.

 "...And in Washington tonight, crowds continue to gather in the capital-"

 

The screen of the television soundlessly blacked out, cutting Eliza Cassan's voice off from her nightly broadcast.  A heavy sigh replaced the ambient noise of the broadcast.

 

"...Adam."

 

"...Doctor Reed," came the gruff reply.

 

It was almost time for the Washington Summit, and the doctor's stress was obvious in the way she fiddled with her necklace.  "Is there something you want to say?"  Megan slowly turned herself in her chair to face the head of security, who hadn't looked up from the newspaper in his hands.  Suddenly, his phone went off, filling the cluttered room with the tinny sound of its default ringtone.  Adam finally looked up but remained silent, tilting his head towards the phone in his hand with an apologetic look on his face.

 

"Hello, Major."  A pause.  "No, I don't think - yes, but -"  Another pause.  This time, hostility pierced the tone of his voice.  "With all due respect, Major, I'll expect two security details waiting for us.  On the tarmac."  One last pause as Adam waited for the Major's reply.  "No, we won't be going through the terminal; it's too exposed.  ...I'm glad you understand.  Good night," Adam waited a bit before his last parting shot, accompanied by an intense eyeroll, "...idiot."

 

During the conversation, Megan had gone back to twisting and turning the beads of her necklace.  When Adam tossed his phone on the nearby table, he looked up and saw her looking at him expectantly.  "Something wrong?"

 

And just like that, the tension in Adam's body dissipated.  "Not for me, it isn't.  But you keep pulling on that necklace, Doctor Reed, and you're gonna break it."  His eyes tracked her movements as she got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the television.

 

"Come on, Meg.  You've defended your research before.  There's no reason to be so worked up about it now."

 

With a snort, Megan retorted, "Is that why you cut Eliza off?"

 

"You don't need to hear about the protests in Washington this close to lift off."  The security chief got up from his chair and quickly stepped over to where Megan was still pacing, gently putting his hands on her shoulders and stopping her in her tracks.  He forced her to lift her head and look at him by staring intensely into her eyes.

 

"As long as you know I've got your back, there's nothing to be afraid of," Adam reassured her, nodding along with his words.

 

"And as much as I love having you by my side, that's not it.  This discovery, the people there, they'll... want to know how I found it -"

 

Without warning, the monitor in front of them came to life, this time displaying their favorite CEO.  "Megan, we're leaving for D.C. in - Adam!"

 

"You need something, boss?"  Adam quickly but subtly let go of Megan and stood behind her as Sarif addressed them.

 

The CEO only gave them a quick knowing look before continuing.  "Yeah, I want to go over your security plans before we leave.  Is your team ready to go, Megan?"

 

"Almost, David.  We're just rechecking data."

 

Sarif set his hands on his hips and said, "Well, make it snappy.  We have to actually be in Washington before you can dazzle all those federally-appointed know-it-alls."  And with that, the transmission cut off.

 

Megan gave another heaving sigh.  "I hate it when he does that," she said, irritably.  "Come on, I'll walk you part way."

 

As the doctor headed for the doorway out to the main lab, doubt began sprouting at the back of Adam's mind.  There had to be a reason she was acting so anxiously.  He tried to drop it, but something must have given his thoughts away when Megan chided him for just standing there, lost in his own head.  "David's waiting, Adam.  We shouldn't keep him," She said, tersely, as she wrung her hands in wait.

 

"...I'm coming."  Adam shook his head as if to physically let go of his doubts and followed Megan out the door, coat trailing behind him.

* * *

As they waited on the edge of the main lab for the elevator, Megan looked concerned.  "You alright, Adam?  I know what you think about the research, and..."  She trailed off as they got in.

 

"It's nothing.  I don't want you worrying about anything on my end before your big presentation, now, do I?"

 

Megan sighed.  "I don't need CASIE implants to know you're pissed."

 

Adam chose not to respond and instead let a silence thick enough to make Adam feel like he was being drowned fill the elevator carriage.  Megan, on the other hand, looked like she had something she wanted to say.  "Adam, I... There's something I -"

 

She was cut off by the opening of the elevator doors.  Adam, who was focusing on Megan, could only tell who came in by the look on Megan's face.

 

_Pritchard._

 

Adam was angry that Pritchard had cut Megan short, but... did he really want to know what she was about to say?  In a way, he was glad for the fact that he had an excuse to be kept in the dark.  Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

 

Megan got off on the next floor, basically ignoring Frank's presence.  "There's Faridah... I'd better hurry.  See you at the helipad, Adam."

 

Trying not to growl over-protectively at the way Frank was staring at Megan as she left, Adam instead leaned back and gave the tech his full attention.

 

"Did I... interrupt something, Jensen?"

 

Adam couldn't help but be petty out of spite.  "You fix that firewall yet?"  He took intense pleasure out of the way Pritchard bristled at the jab.  "You don't 'fix' an entire firewall, Jensen.  You find the loophole and plug it.  Not that an ex-cop would know anything about that."

 

"Ex-SWAT, Francis.  You'd be surprised."

 

They maintained eye contact as if holding a staring match for the short amount of time it took for their elevator to reach the penthouse level, with Adam breaking it as he led the way into the foyer.  "Sarif ask to see you too?"

 

Frank shook his head minutely.  "Athene.  She wants me to show her how to track the GPLs we implanted into Megan and her team.  In case one of _your_  security plans don't measure up."

 

"They will,"  Adam huffed, leaving Pritchard with Athene on his way to Sarif's office.  God, he couldn't stand the guy.  He almost wanted to confront him and ask what it would take for Frank to take that massive stick out of his ass, but he knew he'd only be met with an equal amount of snark and vitriol.

 

"Adam!"  Sarif exclaimed, arms wide open.  A man in a suit strode past him, evidence of a conversation that he'd interrupted.  "Big day tomorrow.  Everything in place?"

 

The security chief just nodded, just now processing something about the conversation he'd walked into.  "You're trying to get Darrow for the summit?"

 

"You know the politicians.  They'll basically roll over if Hugh tells them to, but that's going to be moot when Megan presents her research.  It's safer and easier than anything Hugh Darrow ever did!"  Adam couldn't help but detect a bit of defensiveness in his boss's voice.  The walls of the room began to glow red all of a sudden, indicating an environmental malfunction and preventing Adam from finishing his thoughts.  "Dammit.  Tonight, of all nights," Sarif grumbled, leaning on his ornate desk.  "We're not taking any chances.  I need you to get down there, son.  You remember the code for the elevator?"

 

"Oh-four-five-one."

 

"Good.  Athene, get someone to shut off that damn racket."

* * *

"Pritchard, where's Megan?  She report in yet?"

 

There was a faint static crackle backing the sound of Pritchard's voice through the comm.  "Her GPL implants show her moving through the micro-chem labs.  I think she's running!"

 

Adam was immediately overtaken with alarm.  "Can you get eyes on her?"

 

"I'm trying, Jensen, but the intellicams aren't responding.  Something's jamming things down there.  Hurry, Jensen, find out what's happening!"  Static overtook the transmission and Jensen was left alone in the elevator with his thoughts.  "Pritchard?!  Pritchard!"  He almost considered punching the elevator to get it to move faster but was let off just as the thought crossed his mind.  

 

As as he rounded the corner to get to the labs, he couldn't believe his eyes.  Injured and dead bodies littered the hallways, as did miscellaneous objects and boxes.  Some of the offices were even engulfed in fire.  What could have caused something like this?  He soon got his answer when he saw a scientist pounding on reinforced glass on the other side of the hallway, screaming, "-elp, they're trying to kill me!" only to be cut short by a round of gunfire.  A heavily augmented solider holding another scientist came through a hole in the wall, only to throw that employee into the glass.  Jensen could only watch as the man's lifeless body slid down the glass and collapsed in a heap onto the blood-stained floor.  He had no choice but to move past the bloodshed.  Megan, he had to find Megan.

 

The further he advanced through the labs, the less hope he had for finding Megan unscathed.  Eventually, he made his way to a suspiciously large hole in the side of a wall - a wall that had to be made with the force of an augmented limb.  Not thinking about the consequences, he jogged up to it, only to be met with a solid punch to the stomach from a man who looked more robot than man.

 

The punch felt like it hit every single one of his organs and reverberated painfully around the inner cavities of his body.  He didn't have time to dwell on the pain, however, as he was forcefully grabbed by the shoulders and thrown through a glass wall and hit the servers behind with with massive force.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan, stunned by the flying glass.  He tried to reassure her as his right hand shook with the effort it took to reach for his spare revolver, but nothing would come out of his mouth.

 

It was as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs and was quickly becoming replaced with blood, and glass pierced every inch of his skin.  As soon as he got the gun out of its holster, it was knocked out of his hand and followed by a swift but powerful punch.  The man's hand clamped around his throat and Jensen coughed weakly as he was lifted into the air with the incredible strength of one single augmented arm.  

 

Behind his assailant, he saw Megan holding a barrel over her head, positioning her arms as if she were about to throw it.  He stretched out his hand to stop her, but it was too late - she chucked it at the cyborg, who immediately shot it out of the air.  Unfortunately for him, the acid inside of it exploded and covered his front, forcing him to drop Adam.  Adam saw two more cyborgs come up behind Megan and tried to warn the doctor, but to no avail.  As his vision began to blur, he could see the man backhand Megan and slowly advance to the revolver Adam had so pitifully tried to save himself with.  With the last of his consciousness, the only thing in his mind was the intense regret that his last conversation had been with Pritchard.

 

One shot to the head, and he was out.


	2. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months after his extensive operations, Adam hasn't picked up any calls. Sarif decides enough is enough and forces Pritchard to check up on his golden boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is all just fluff real plot will happen next chapter I swear

_Waiting is always the worst part, isn't it?_

Adam sat in his apartment, smoke swirling through the air from the full ashtray sitting on the table in front of him.  Light streamed through the small slits of drawn curtains.  The smoke stood out where the light hit it, creating glowing, golden clouds in the fringes of the room.

 

_And you were always so impatient._

The whiskey in his right hand was covered in condensation, running water droplets down his augmented fingers.  The only reason he could tell was because of the way the light hit the droplets.  He'd never thought about losing the fine sensations only permitted through skin, but he missed them dearly now.  The glass of the tumbler strained under the unwittingly increased force of his grip and caused him to startle slightly when he heard a telltale _crack._  


_Just hold on, Adam..._

His unused phone sat next to the ashtray on the table.  He never did drop the habit of checking and charging it, even when his infolink did everything his phone could and more.  For all he checked it, though, the size of the backlog of missed calls that his phone had collected was akin to a man in a coma's.

 

_I'll be there in your dreams._

 

The television facing towards him droned on quietly, giving a gentle undertone to the overwhelming silence of his apartment.  From what he could through his unfocused eyes, Picus news hadn't changed in the time he'd been under.  Eliza Cassan looked professional as always, and the station had kept the sky blue of the background.  Day in and day out during his forced sick leave he would turn on the news, listening to Eliza drone on about a recent protest concerning the company's work.

 

He didn't know if he could take nine more months of this stagnation.

* * *

"I'm sorry, David, but he won't answer my calls."  Pritchard groused, tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.  Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the wires hanging from the monitors on the walls of his lab.  "I think that's a clear sign he wants to be left alone."

 

"Really?  Even _your_ calls?"  The incredulousness in Sarif's voice was clear but indecipherable.

 

"...What does that mean?"

 

"Look, we've given him the courtesy of leaving his infolink alone for long enough.  I want you to get through to him directly.  Show up at his front door if you have to."

 

"I'm not sure that's wise."

 

"Just do it, Pritchard.  You're on my payroll, remember?"

 

With a sigh he couldn't contain, Frank replied, "Yes, sir." and cut the communication with an audible click.

 

His frustration showed through the state of his room, which looked even more unkempt than it usually was.  He understood why Jensen wanted to live in isolation for the duration of his leave, but it certainly didn't make his job any easier, especially with Sarif breathing down his neck.  It was always Jensen who was everybody's favorite.  Jensen, Jensen, Jensen.  No one came to him for advice or deeply personal favors.  If someone did stop by the tech lab, it was always for something minor like the wifi router going out or a USB driver not cooperating.

 

Certainly, he didn't want to expend the effort of personally visiting a co-worker, _especially_ not the one who had become the bane of Frank's existence since the first day they started as security chief of Sarif Industries.  But, as his boss had so delicately put it, he didn't have much of a choice.

 

Once he felt satisfied with his work for the day, he locked his computer (a simple task so many of his colleagues failed to do on a daily basis, to his incredible frustration), grabbed an energy bar, and made his way to the door to lock up for the night.  On his way out, he saw his diagnostic augmentation toolkit and grabbed it, just in case.

 

The motorcycle ride over to the Chiron Building was thankfully uneventful.  He didn't think he could take any more sneaking out of the back door of Sarif Industries just to dodge protesters.  Things had been winding down, but only because the incident three months ago had presented a chance for restrictive legislation to finally pass.  Frank was just glad stones and bottles weren't being pelted at him and his fellow employees for the time being.

 

He wondered if he should contact Adam on his phone before showing up uninvited.  While he slowed to a stop in front of the apartment complex, he set his helmet down on his seat and pulled out his phone.  His finger hit speed dial 2 and he brought up the phone to his ear, tapping his foot impatiently.

 

Predictably, all he heard at the other end of the line was the dial tone.  Clicking his tongue irritably, he stuffed the phone back into his back pocket and took his helmet and toolkit with him into the building.  It felt as if they'd been playing hide and seek for months, with Frank considerately turning his back on Adam the entire time.  But Adam couldn't hide forever.  There was work to be done.

* * *

It was nine o' clock when Adam heard the shrill ring of his apartment's doorbell from his bed.  The high-pitched noise bounced around in his skull, making him dearly regret the bender he'd had earlier in the day.  The entire room was dark, but his eyes adjusted with the ease of his new augmentations - another reminder of everything he'd lost.  With a groan, he forced himself out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress for a few seconds, rubbing his face gingerly.

 

He didn't bother putting on a shirt and made his way to the door in just a pair of sweatpants.  Optimistically expecting the deliveryman for the replacement for his bathroom mirror, he opened the door with a grateful, if tired, smile on his face.  "Finally, I was waiting for -"

 

When he finally realized who was actually at the door, he did a double-take and froze.  "Pritchard?  What are you -"

 

"Let me in, Jensen.  Orders from the boss."

 

The tech looked nervous, even more so than usual.  Adam didn't know if it was just his enhanced vision, but he swore he could see a slight tinge of red dusting Frank's cheeks.

 

"You could have just called."

 

"Right, like I haven't tried that about a million times before having to resort to showing up at your door like a lost puppy."  The disgust in Pritchard's voice was palpable as he nudged his way through the doorway.  For some reason, he stopped in the foyer and turned on his heel to face Adam.

 

"How can you live like this?"  Frank walked to the open living room area and set his toolbox down next to the coffee table.  "God, look at this place.  It's like you let a rabid dog run through your rooms."  Unconsciously, he began to pick up the papers and loose boxes that littered the floor.  Amused, Adam just leaned against a wall and watched Pritchard worry around his apartment.

 

Realizing he was being watched, Pritchard stopped in his tracks.  "And what exactly is so funny?"

 

"Nothing."  He trekked his way into the kitchen and searched around for a bowl.  "You shouldn't have come here."

 

Frank simply made a dismissive noise, depositing the miscellaneous articles he'd collected into one of the many empty cardboard boxes on the floor.  Pausing, the man was uncharacteristically still and slumped over.  It was then that Adam realized how much older Pritchard looked from the time he last saw him.  However, the tech perked up quickly enough that Adam wondered if it wasn't just a trick of the light.

 

"Nonsense.  I told you, Sarif forced me to come here."  Now it looked as if Pritchard was inspecting his apartment, examining every bit of tech he could find.  "We were starting to worry, you know."

 

"You're beginning to sound a bit defensive, Pritchard.  Are you sure that's really the case?"  Adam raised an eyebrow towards Pritchard's turned back, but he could feel the look being given to him without having to look at Jensen's face.

 

"Yes, really.  As much as I resent the way in which you were hired, the security guards at the Industries are directionless without you there to micromanage them."  Frank sighed, seemingly content with the way things were set up in the apartment, and sat himself down on the only couch in the entire house.

 

"Alright, it's your turn," he said, gesturing to the empty space on the couch.

 

Adam's unraised eyebrow lifted as well, giving him a strange expression.  His retractable shades were up, meaning that Frank was able to read his emotions quite easily.  "I go to the L.I.M.B. clinic for my check-ups, Pritchard.  Not that I don't appreciate your hands-on approach."

 

The blush on Pritchard's face was quite prominent this time around.  "Don't flatter yourself, Jensen.  I just need to make sure everything's up to _my_ standards while I'm here.  The quality of your work affects me, too, you know."

 

Without further protest, Adam abandoned his search for cereal and took a seat next to his colleague and patiently watched as a line of complicated-looking tools was laid out on the table in front of them.  "Before I begin, is there anything bothering you in particular that I can start with?"

 

"I've been having trouble with my fine motor movements -"

 

"Stop right there.  That's a problem for your physical therapist to work out, not me.  Hasn't your... clock repairing done anything for your hands?"  Frank pointedly asked while turning his head to look at the many gutted timepieces laying in plain sight in Adam's bedroom.

 

"Apparently not.  I cracked a glass in my hand this morning, just by holding it."

 

"Just give it time.  Not everything can be handed to you on a silver platter.  Some of us have to actually work for things; it'll be nice for you to finally be able to experience that with the rest of us."

 

"If you have a problem with me -"

 

"Oh, there's a problem, alright," said Frank, bitterness clear in his voice.  "But no more talking.  We can hash out our differences later, when you're no longer a pile of slow-healing flesh and metal plates."

 

Adam complied and decided to drop the subject.  After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, he suddenly remembered something.  "My retinal display.  It's been acting up for so long that I'd gotten used to it."

 

Pritchard looked pleased.  "Now, fortunately for you, _that_ is something I can easily fix.  Is the HUD fizzling in and out of view?"

 

"Yeah."  Adam followed the movement of the tech's hand, which rested on a glowing apparatus that looked not unlike a taser.

 

"No moving," Pritchard warned, "or this might sting more than it has to."  Adam tensed up as soon as he heard a drilling sort of noise next to his right ear.  Suddenly, his hearing dropped out and he could hear only the muffled sound of his pained grunt.  Despite the lingering side-effect of ringing in his ears, the treatment did seem to work, and Adam was secretly glad that the issue was fixed so quickly.

 

"So that's why we keep you on the team," Adam remarked smugly.  Pritchard's face suddenly flared up in anger as he hissed, "What 'we'?  As far as you're concerned, you have no say in who does and who doesn't work for Sarif.  You're lucky Megan saw something in you, God knows what, that was good enough to justify you being chief of security."

 

Adam tensed, his eyebrows furrowed.  It was pathetic how any mention of Megan, no matter how small, never ceased to get an emotional rise out of him.  "Lucky for you, I'll ignore that comment."  He made a motion to stand, but Frank pushed him back down.  For a second, it looked as if he were almost... apologetic, but the moment passed as Pritchard shook his head.  "I'm not finished.  Have a little patience, for God's sake."

 

The tension in the room was palpable after the last argument they had, but Adam had no choice but to simply grin and bear Frank's invasive evaluation.  "Are you done yet?"  He basically growled, tired of having to hold the same position for so long with little distraction.

 

"Almost.  I just have to check your cranial implants one last time -" He cut himself off as he stood up with a grunt of effort and walked behind the couch to get a better angle of Adam's head.  For him, at least, it seemed as if his absolute immersion in his work had diffused all tension. Unfortunately, Jensen was not so lucky.

 

Even the slightest touch of the tech's hand on his head felt like it was being squeezed by a vice.  "You really should lay off of the gel, Jensen.  Your abysmal history with women isn't a cosmetic issue."

 

"So... you're saying I'm attractive, then."

 

Pritchard's hands stopped moving, and the man made a small affronted noise.  "No I - that's not -"  Flustered, he came around to Adam's front with his hands perched on his sides.  It looked as if he was so embarrassed that he couldn't say anything to refute Adam's accusation.  "I won't even dignify that with a response," he coughed.  Hesitantly, he bent down to get a better look at the spot at which Adam had been shot those three months ago.

 

Jensen recoiled as hands came up to his face.  "Don't be such a baby.  I just need to examine the bullet wound."  The words came out stilted but soft, a remnant of Pritchard's embarrassment.

 

Somehow, it felt as if the tension had dissipated, and Adam let himself relax despite Frank's touches.  "Well, you're certainly being being pliant."

 

Adam simply grunted.  He felt vulnerable with his shades retracted, especially when the two men made eye contact.  Trying not to show any emotion, Adam held the eye contact.  Frank held it as well, looking defiant.  Of course everything had to be a competition with him.

 

They broke the contact at the same time, both coughing slightly in embarrassment.  "Everything looks fine."  Pritchard returned to his toolkit and began putting everything away.  "You better start answering your calls.  Sarif and I won't bother with your infolink as long as you just pick up your phone."

 

Adam nodded absently, staring into space.  "And eat something other than cereal for once.  We didn't replace your entire body - you still have to take care of yourself."  The disdain in Pritchard's voice was undercut by his obvious concern, and Adam said, "I'm touched.  I didn't know you cared."

 

"Oh, no, waste away for all I care, Jensen.  It's not my job on the line."  The tech huffed dismissively, gathering the rest of his things in his arms and walking to the foyer of the apartment.  "You have nine months to get yourself together.  Get over Megan, stop being selfish and start caring about yourself for once in your life."  He slammed the door behind him, leaving Adam in confusion over the paradox in his words.

* * *

A week later, a bag of groceries stood at his front door.  Adam considered leaving them out in the hall, but if his parents taught him anything, it was not to waste food.

 

Behind a corner, Pritchard was pleased to see the man look around suspiciously but take in the bag nonetheless.  Satisfied, he strolled away, whistling softly.


	3. Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets mad at Pritchard.

The day began particularly horribly, even by Adam's standards.  He was woken up by the shrill screaming of his phone's ringtone - at least that's what it felt like after a night of heavy drinking.  Really, the phone wasn't even that loud, but in combination with the sun streaming through his curtains, which rarely ever happened in the god-forsaken city of Detroit, it felt like someone was twisting a serrated knife through his skull.  The pain almost distracted him from the glitches in his eyesight - the retinal display was acting up again.  Of course.

 

Still groggy from sleep, he rolled over onto his stomach and flopped his hand around on the nightstand next to his bed.  Three months ago, he would probably have smashed anything with a screen with his flailing, but things had progressed fast - much faster than Doctor Marcovic or even he had expected.

 

"Hello," He grunted, holding the phone a generous distance from his ear so as not to aggravate his intense migraine.

 

"Adam!  Glad to see you're picking up your phone, now.  You awake?"  Sarif?  Why would he be calling him this early during his sick leave?

 

"I am now, boss.  You need something?"  Adam tried hard not to sound pissy, but it was a bit earlier than he was accustomed to waking up.  Stealing a glance at the radio at the far side of the room, he sighed when he realized it was 6 in the morning.

 

"God, Adam, this isn't the way I wanted our first conversation after your surgeries to go, trust me.  You have to come in as soon as possible, son."

 

Adam sat up, his blankets pooling around his bare torso.  "Am I cleared?"  He fought the urge to rub his eyes, which were both dry and irritated from the constant fizzling of his heads-up display.  The problem was worse than it was the last time Pritchard had to fix it.

 

"Depends on what Marcovic says, but I'm guessing you'll get a clean bill of health."  Sarif sounded oddly sure about it, but it wasn't Adam's place to say.  In any case, he had been feeling a bit stir-crazy with only his thoughts as company.  After that unusual visit from Pritchard three months ago, the tech never set foot in the apartment again.  He only called, but when he did, it was at the same time, every day of every week, on the dot, and always about the same thing: whether or not he was dead.  Over the phone, Pritchard sounded annoyed - most likely Sarif was forcing him to make the calls - but Adam appreciated the effort nonetheless.

 

"Just let me know when you get the okay.  I'll get myself ready until you call."

 

"Sounds good.  And Adam?"

 

"Yes, boss?"

 

"No more benders.  We need you in tip-top shape."  And with that, the other end of the call terminated with a _click_ , making Adam wonder how obvious his hangover had been through just his voice.  Then again, his boss always was eerily perceptive.

 

Adam went through his usual morning routine - run the coffee maker, get some cereal, drink the entire pot of coffee, run water for a shower, and wonder when his bitch of a landlord was going to get his replacement mirror sent up.

 

He took his sweet time with his shower, watching the water roll down the metal plating of his augmentations.  There would probably never be a time where he'd get used to seeing these artificial limbs grafted onto him, but when he looked at them detachedly, they were pretty aesthetically pleasing.  The phantom pains always brought his emotions back down to rejection of the limbs, though.

 

Once he turned off the spray and stepped out in front of the mirror, he took a glance at the damage he'd done to his vanity mirror.  He almost felt bad for ter Horst for breaking more than one, but her recent actions drained him of that pity.

 

Even through all the moisture of the steam fogging up the glass and the webbing of cracks winding through it, he could still make out the amber of his new eyes.  They stood out starkly, reminding him of just how deeply Sarif had "enhanced" him.  The color of the irises just had to be gold, didn't they.  Sarif always did love his black and gold.  Thinking too much about his augmented body always did make him want to punch something, so he hastily looked away, grabbed a towel, and left the bathroom.

 

As he searched around his room for some pants, his phone began to ring again.  Giving up momentarily, he grabbed the device and accepted the call.

 

"Word's in, Adam - you're free to work as long as you consent."

 

"That was fast," Adam mused, finally finding the pants for his commando uniform across the room.  "I'll be in in 15."

 

"Just let me know when you're in the building.  Just a heads up - your infolink will be up and running."

 

"Will do, boss," Adam sighed after the call had ended.  There wasn't any more time to waste - he slid on his pants, tactical turtleneck, bullet-proof vest, and his combat boots.  He'd wait till his conference with Sarif to get armed up.

 

* * *

"I'm in the lobby."  Adam switched on his infolink at the same time he extended his shades, wanting to hide the most obvious change in his appearance from his colleagues.

 

It was jarring, hearing the feedback of the infolink reverberating within his head, but it was easy enough to get used to.  "Sorry to pull you out of sick leave so soon, but, uh... we've got a situation on our hands."

 

"What kind of 'situation'?"

 

"Break-in at our Milwaukee Junction factory.  Meet me at the helipad now."  The end of his sentence was tinged with urgency, making Adam feel bad about having to say, "I have to see Pritchard first.  There's something wrong with my retinal enhancement."

 

The urgency was certainly clear when Sarif tersely replied, "Make it quick.  People's lives are at stake."

 

Up on the second floor, Adam almost walked right past Frank's office, which was hard to believe since the tech lab took up so much space.  He didn't bother knocking on the door before entering, instead pushing it almost violently out of the way to let himself in.

 

"Well, good morning to you too.  Didn't anyone teach you to knock before you barge into peoples' rooms?"  Ah, Pritchard.  As annoying as the man usually was, Adam was glad to see some things never changed.

 

"As much as I've missed you, there's no time for small talk.  Malik and Sarif are waiting on the helipad."

 

"You wouldn't come to me without a problem, then.  What is it?"

 

"Same retinal glitch as three months ago.  Can you fix it up as fast as you did before?"

 

Scoffing, Pritchard turned to reach the same taser-like instrument that had been used on him the last time.  "Why even ask that kind of question when you know the answer?  Honestly.  Of course, you may remember that this might -"

 

Once the tip of the tool connected with his head, a jolt of pain zig-zagged through his nerves and caused him to double-over.  Any sound he could hear was muffled, just as before.

 

"- sting."  Smugly, Pritchard put the thing down and said, "Your sentinel health implant will kick in soon enough to repair any damage that might have been caused."

 

"Thanks," Adam retorted, with a hint of sarcasm, as he held the side of his head to lessen the ringing in his ears.  "Are we done here?  Because Sarif is -"

 

"Waiting for you at the helipad, yes, you mentioned that.  Radicals have taken over our manufacturing plant, and with hostages, no less."  Under his breath, Frank muttered, "Maybe this time you'll actually _save_  people," just loud enough to Jensen could hear.

 

The concerned Pritchard of three months ago was gone, replaced by the Pritchard that he'd known the first day he got hired at Sarif Industries.  "I thought we've already been through this whole... 'you questioning the integrity of my work', Francis."

 

"Oh, I'm sorry.  It's just that I can't help but blame myself for the many mistakes you've made."  His words were haughty and even his nose was actually upturned as he said them.

 

"The mighty Pritchard, blaming himself?  That's gotta be a first."

 

The tech's voice ratcheted up an octave as he whined, "I'm the one who told Sarif that we need a physical security team to protect us.  If he'd read my report closely enough-!"

 

This was a first.  "You're saying that _you're_ the one that came up with the idea to hire me?"

 

"Not _you,_ Jensen."  The obvious disdain in those three words seemed a bit much to the security chief.  "I wanted established contractors like Dynacore, Belltower, or Sharp Edge, but Sarif wanted to keep it in-house - and so did, apparently, Doctor Reed."

 

Adam tensed, balling his hands into fists at his sides.  "I suggest you leave Megan out of this," he growled.

 

"Everyone knew how close the two of you were.  There's no use in denying it - and let's face it," Pritchard said, a condescending smirk spreading across his face, "No one was about to hire you after that massacre in Mexicantown."

 

Forcing himself to calm down, Adam rebutted, "You have to stop getting all of your news from Picus blogs, Francis.  They only confuse you."

 

Pritchard simply brushed off the insult.  "The point is, we wouldn't be having this conversation if Sarif had only listened to me.  Hell, you wouldn't be standing in front of me right now - and wouldn't that be a blessing.  But Megan, God love her, always did have Sarif's ear."

 

The bottled-up anger Adam was holding in was about to burst out of its dam.  "Sarif's _ear_  is going to be hearing about violence in the workplace if you keep this up."

 

"...Point taken."  Since the conversation had practically been decapitated, Adam turned on his heel to leave as fast as he could.  However, Frank just couldn't resist one last parting jab as he called out, "There's no need to wear your shades indoors, Jensen.  They make you look even more like an insufferable dick than you actually are."

 

Adam didn't answer; there was no time for Frank's petty disagreements.  He'd already wasted too much time talking to the man when there were hostages to be saved.

 

* * *

Frank's... _disagreeable_ disposition followed Adam into the manufacturing plant.  Short of telling the man to shut the hell up, there was nothing he could do.  Of course, Adam was guilty of inciting some of the biting sarcasm, himself.  It was probably because of the pressure of having to get the typhoon out of the plant before SWAT made their move.  Probably.

 

For his first day back on the job, he felt like he did quite well - the hostages were safe, and he hadn't been detected yet - until he came to a room where he could see a particularly suspicious-looking man through the window with... wires coming out of his head?  If Purity First really _was_ behind this attack, then...

 

Adam decided to go in and take the guy out before he was caught by anyone else.  Once he stepped foot inside the room he was able to see what the man was doing - he was hacking into the chamber that held the typhoon.  "Step away from the console!"  Adam growled, unsheathing his arm-blades in warning.

 

The man stopped what he was doing and erratically grabbed the gun next to him, whipped out his arm next to him, and shakily brought the gun to his head.  Apprehensive and confused, Adam retracted the blade and slowly brought his hand up.  "You don't need to -"

 

"Help... me..." Came out a raspy cry, just as the hacker pulled the trigger.  From where he stood, Adam could see every gory detail of the hole the man had blown into his own head.  Bending down, he took the wires connected to the man's temple, bunched them up in his hand, and tore them out all at once.

 

"Pritchard, are you still there?"

 

"Where _else_ would I be, Jensen?"

 

Ignoring the snide comment, Adam relayed the situation to his partner.  "There's a guy in here with some pretty interesting cerebral implants.  He's outfitted like one of the Purity First members, but..."

 

"...no Purity First member would ever have augmentations," Pritchard finished Adam's thought.  "I'll tell Sarif.  And Jensen?"

 

"Yes, Pritchard?"

 

"Don't touch the body.  Leave the crime scene details to the people who actually know what they're doing, for once."

 

"Ex-SWAT, Pritchard.  I don't need your constant nagging -"

 

"Oh, yes, _Ex_ -SWAT, as you keep reminding me.  Take my advice, you don't want to have another massive disaster on your hands."  Fortunately, Pritchard cut the communication before Adam could give him some choice words of his own.  It was never a good thing for him to be on a mission while annoyed - well, annoyed wasn't really word for it.  He was feeling something akin to... _indescribable anger_.  But, he used to be an officer of the law, and he couldn't just go around shooting random people, no matter what they've done.  To calm himself down, he took some deep breaths and counted to ten, just as his therapists instructed him to do every time he's met with them.

 

He hoped, for Frank's sake, that the infolink wouldn't be activated again today.  There was no more patience left in him to stop him from ripping out the cranial implant from his own temple.

* * *

Getting through the rest of the building wasn't easy with his mind distracted, but he did end up getting to Josie Thorpe's office without much resistance.  Adam let Sanders go, seeing the bigger picture of the situation - it wasn't Purity First behind this attack.  After making sure Josie was safe and that SWAT had the situation under control, he made his way out to the rooftop terrace.

 

When he heard an incoming signal coming from his infolink, he immediately hissed, " _What?_ " without waiting for the person on the other end of the line to identify themselves first.

 

"Woah there, son, it's just me," David's voice carried through the signal, making Adam sigh with embarrassment and relief.  "Is there something wrong?  What's the situation?"

 

Without thinking, Adam responded, "Sorry, boss.  Thought you were Pritchard.  Everything's under control, but Sanders is gone.  Someone else is behind all this."

 

"Damn it.  I want you back here now.  Malik should already be waiting for you on the rooftop.  Also... we'll have to have a talk about your workplace relationship with Frank."

 

"...Copy.  Jensen out."  Adam couldn't bring himself to feel good about the day's work.  He wished he could pretend he didn't know the reason why, but it was clearly Pritchard.  It was always Pritchard.

* * *

"I can't do this anymore, boss."

 

"Slow down, Adam!  Relax for a second."  Sarif stopped, presumably to let Adam calm down.  After a few seconds, he gestured at Adam to let him continue speaking.

 

"Boss, I want you to to do something about Pritchard."

 

"What's that?  Pritchard?"

 

"Don't play around, Sarif.  I know you listen in on at least some of our conversations."   _If not all of them,_ Adam thought to himself.

 

Sarif put up his hands in surrender.  "...Alright, you got me.  But really, what do you want me to do about it?  As long as his work is satisfactory, his conversations with you aren't any of my concern."

 

Adam scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.  "...Fine."  As if a switch was flipped, his demeanor returned to its usual professionalism.  "Boss, it's clear that Sanders was being controlled.  That's why I let him go -"

 

Sarif's fatherly countenance turned sour.  "You let him go?!  Christ, Adam!  What did I even send you in for?"

 

"You sent me in to get the typhoon.  And I did."

 

"How can you be so calm?  Sanders is clearly a man with determination - in charge or not, he'll come back to bite us in the ass."

 

"I let him go to see where the trail led.  We don't know who's behind this, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this."

 

"Well, you'd better be _damn_ sure about all of this.  Now go talk to Pritchard," the CEO sighed, rubbing his temples.  "I don't want any of your missions being compromised by the  _fights_ you two have."

 

"Will do, boss," Adam said, making sure his back was turned to Sarif before rolling his eyes.  "Don't let him know I'm on my way.  I want to catch him off guard."

 

"You kids and your antics.  Just make sure you two kiss and make up."

 

Ignoring the parting jab, Adam left Sarif's office, gave a perfunctory greeting to Athene, and practically slammed his hand onto the elevator button.  On the ride down to the second floor, his mind was full of anger, so much so that he could barely think straight.  After a bit, though, he cooled down and wondered why he was so riled up by maybe two sentences of conversation between him and the mighty Pritchard.  In the end, he decided he shouldn't think too much about it.

 

Striding out of the elevator, he kept his head held high as he stomped his way to the technology labs.  He kept his shades on even as he entered the dim light of the office.

 

"Pritchard."

 

"Well, well.  If it isn't Mahatma Gandhi, here to bless us all with his life-preserving presence.  If this is about the typhoon, I'll -"

 

"You can look at the typhoon later, Francis.  We have to talk about something, first."

 

Pritchard didn't hide his surprise very well, which gave Adam just a little bit of spiteful satisfaction.  "Well, then, what is there to talk about?"

 

"Workplace conduct.  You ever heard of it?"

 

"I've been perfectly professional the entire time I've worked at Sarif Industries.  If anything, it's you who needs to be retrained -"

 

"Stop, Francis."  Adam growled.  "You know damn well what I'm talking about - I can't do my job if you're always in my head, snarking at me twenty-four-seven."

 

The chief of security paused, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing an augmented hand over his face.  "I just want to do my job in peace."  From the spaces in between his fingers, he could see Frank's eyes looking up at him, looking almost apologetic.  He must have been hallucinating, however, since Pritchard said, "Where's the fun in that?  I can't let you coast through your job just like you coast through life."

 

"But can you handle the consequences if your prattling on gets me caught in enemy territory?"

 

"What, you can't just shoot your way out of there?"

 

"Dammit, Pritchard, I used to be a cop.  I can't just shoot everyone who gets in my way -"

 

"Funny, that's not what the incident in Mexicantown tells me."

 

That was it.  "Look.  I tried to talk to you.  Sarif knows that.  Whatever mistakes happen on the mission will be on you now."  He unclenched his fists, which he didn't even know were balled up so hard that his nails would have been drawing blood if they were still flesh-and-blood until he relaxed them.  "I'm done with you."  Reaching into his coat pocket, he got his hand around the typhoon and threw it on the tech's desk without regard of the mechanism.

 

"Do your job like you're supposed to.  Your programming skills are the only things keeping you here."  Not wanting to stick around any longer on the off chance that he might lose control and punch a hole through the wall, he almost leaped out of the room and slightly jogged out of the building and onto the street.  The cold Detroit air cleared his head, and he took a seat on a bench near the smoking employees that usually stood together in a circle, talking about whatever.

 

Adam wasn't supposed to get mad like this.  It was practically his job to be level-headed and silent - passion and aggression would only hinder the quality of his work.

 

So why could Pritchard unfailingly push him over the edge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops barely any plot im sorry
> 
> Honestly its so difficult trying to follow the canon story and also make adam and frank openly hate each other but i promise things will happen in the next chapter i PROMISE
> 
> Also I remember Elias Toufexis (Adam's voice actor) saying once that he always plays cop characters as people reluctant to kill, so I incorporated that into the story.


	4. Merciful Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets drunk, Sarif is a devious asshole, Pritchard suffers, but in a good way, and Malik just wants everyone to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit okay this one is kinda long. Also I'm sorry for making this so dialogue-heavy, I have a tendency to do that. This plot is getting away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

"Frank, where's..."

 

"Jensen?"  The tech replied a tad defensively, not looking up from his workstation.  "He's probably crawling around in a duct somewhere."

 

Sarif sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head.  "Don't be like this.  I call him on his infolink, but he just stays silent.  I know he can hear the transmission because I can hear city chatter in the background.  Track him for me, would you?"

 

"Track him?  What -"

 

"You were there when the team decided what augmentations to outfit Adam with.  You know we put a tracker in him."

 

"That's not it.  Don't you think it's an invasion of privacy to just track him without his permission?"

 

"We do this all the time, Pritchard, I don't know why you're raising a stink about it now."  Sarif began to gesture at his employee with wide, sweeping motions of his arms, looking slightly hysterical.  "We need to find him.  I don't know what kind of lovers' spat you two've had, but we have information we have and need to act on _now_.  Get.  Him.  Back.  Here."  As he left, Pritchard finally looked up, a bit shocked by his employer's word choice, and ran his hands down his face, staring at the open door for a while before looking back at his monitor.

 

"Goddamn Jensen, can't even take a little bit of constructive criticism..." he mumbled to himself.  Fingers flying across the keyboard, Francis brought up Adam's GPL implant location, triangulated the signal, and pinpointed the security chief's location.

 

"Sarif.  I've found him," he tersely said through the infolink, leaning back in his chair.

 

"Already?  That was fast."

 

"You hired me for a reason."  A reason he might have to constantly remind the CEO of if he kept driving Adam away.

 

"You're right, I shouldn't have doubted you.  Now get him on the infolink and tell him to get back here."

 

"You've already tried that method.  I'll go get him myself."

 

"Are you sure?  I know you don't go outside very often, Pritchard.  Maybe I should get Malik to -"

 

"No!"  He said, more emphatically than he intended.  Somehow, the idea of Malik going to rectify the fight he'd had with Adam rubbed him entirely the wrong way.  "I mean... no.  I can do it."

 

"Alright, then.  As long as he's in one piece.  And have some tact, for God's sake."

 

Pritchard switched off the communication before Sarif could give him any more "gentle suggestions" and got up from his workstation.  He transferred Adam's location information to his phone and grabbed his leather jacket on his way out the door.

 

Suddenly, his infolink activated again.  Pritchard contemplated not answering it, but seeing as he was technically still on the clock, he begrudgingly let the transmission come through.  "Sarif, I've already told you -"

 

"Woah, slow down, Frank.  It's me, Faridah."

 

"Malik!"  He couldn't contain the surprise in his voice.  "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

 

"I heard from the boss that you're going after Adam.  What did you say to him this time?"

 

"This time?  Gossip isn't entirely welcome in the workplace, Malik."

 

Her laugh was tinny as the transmission warped the sound on the other side of the line.  "I just want to help you get him back.  He's never done this before, you know.  Just up and walked away."

 

"Wow, thanks.  I definitely needed to be reminded of what a huge mistake I've made."

 

"No, no, no!  I think it's great."

 

"What?"  Bewildered, Frank almost stopped in his tracks.  "In what universe could driving away our most _valuable_ employee be great?"  His voice bled with sarcasm and vitriol.

 

"Not that.  I mean the fact that he's finally showing some other emotion than... nothing.  You're reminding him he's human, Pritchard, for a lack of better words."

 

"He's shown rage.  I know you've heard about the incident with his mirror..."

 

"That rage was directed at himself.  I'm talking about after the whole incident with him and Megan breaking up.  You're the only person he actually has conversations with, you know."

 

"You're joking.  What about you or Sarif?"

 

"I think he still resents Sarif for putting that augmentation clause in his contract.  And me?  He really only talks to me when I talk to him, first."

 

"I don't think our conversations really count, though.  It's always about work."

 

"Didn't you visit him all those months ago?  When he was still recovering?"

 

Upon revisiting the memory, Pritchard felt his face flood with heat.  He convinced himself it was because of the cold air and wind buffeting his face.  "Well, yes.  But -"

 

"But nothing!  He wouldn't even answer my or Sarif's calls.  I did try ringing the doorbell once, but there was no reply."

 

Pritchard realized he'd have to cut his conversation short as he neared Adam's location on his phone display.  "As much as I love speculation, what you're talking about is pure fantasy.  He hates me, I hate him, end of story."

 

"Are you _sure_ you hate him?" Malik asked.  "If you really did, you'd be trying to sabotage his position as employee like you were before the attack."

 

"Doing the job he refuses to do is not sabotaging his position -"

 

"Call it what you will, but you're looking for him now, aren't you?"

 

"I have to!  If I don't, Sarif will -"

 

"Short of corporate espionage, there's no way you'd be fired.  You know that."

 

Prtichard realized he would have to nip this conversation in the bud if he wanted any semblance of peace and quiet.  "...It looks like I've found him, Malik.  I've got to go."

 

"We'll continue this conversation later, Pritchard!"  Malik tried to get in some last words before Frank cut the communication.

 

It took a bit of climbing to get to Adam, who was holed up somewhere on one of the city's rooftops.  Panting and out of breath, Pritchard stumbled onto the top of one of the apartment complexes, scanning his surroundings for his colleague.  Giving up trying to spot him on his own, he called out, "Jensen!  Stop jeopardizing both of our jobs and get back here!"

 

As expected, he was met with silence.  However, he could see out of the corner of his eye the waving of a distinctly-patterned black fabric in the wind.  Rolling his eyes, he stomped towards it, the satisfying crunch of gravel underneath his feet dissipating some of his anger.  "I can't believe you're actually the head of security.  How do you think you can do your job if I can spot you from a mile away?"

 

"You're assuming I tried to hide from you," came the growled reply.  Francis rounded the corner and found Adam, sitting against a brick wall with a half-empty bottle of scotch sitting next to him.  "Why're you here, Francis?"

 

The tech sighed, eyeing the alcohol with disdain.  "We have jobs, Jensen.  You can't just run off on your own every time your feelings are hurt."

 

"Would you rather that I'd have stayed in your office and wrecked all your shit?"  His brain-to-mouth filter was obviously failing as his sobriety faltered.  With more sincerity, Adam said, "I know how hard you've been working on your motorcycle."

 

Frank could feel a migraine coming on and attributed Adam's words to his drunken state of mind.  "Jensen, you're drunk.  What on earth would make you drink on the job?"

 

Adam was silent, looking as if he were sober for a second.  "You."

 

Taken back by the bluntness of the answer, Frank took several staggering steps backwards.  "Me?!  If anything, it's you who'll cause me to have a premature heart attack.  Don't try to put all this on me."

 

"That's not it."  Adam sounded dismissive and took another swig from the bottle in his hand.  "Why don't you sit and drink with me, Francis?  Lazarus says the world's going to shit anyways, so what's the point?"

 

"What's the point?  What's the _point?!_ " Frank all but screamed, snatching the bottle out of Adam's outstretched hand.  "Sarif didn't augment you up to the gills to just let you walk away from all this.  Faridah doesn't leave you for dead even when you're surrounded by soldiers.  I didn't... I didn't... _Megan_ didn't give up her life for you to give up yours."  That came out much more sincerely than he intended.  Feeling absolutely drained, Pritchard gave in and took a seat next to Adam.

 

"Look.  I know things might seem helpless.  But I really believe that only you can fix whatever's going on here.  With my help, of course."

 

"Of course.  What would I do without you, Francis?"  Adam sounded the gentlest Frank had ever heard him sound, and he felt an emotion stir deep within his chest.  "You'd die, that's what."  Embarassingly, Frank's voice cracked and he ended his sentence with a cough to try and hide it.  Thankfully, Adam seemed too drunk to process it.

 

They sat a few more moments in comfortable silence, and Frank was convinced that Adam had fallen asleep.  He was all for closing his eyes for some much-needed rest, but he suddenly remembered why he was there.

 

"Adam!  We need to get back to Sarif.  He said you had some information you needed to act on now."

 

"You couldn't just let the moment last, huh?"  Adam sounded much more sober, but as he rose, Frank expected to see him stagger.  Sure on his feet as ever, Adam turned around and reached out a hand for Frank to take.  Of course, he refused the help and got on his feet by himself, dismissively brushing off the debris from the ground off of his pants.

 

"How are you sober, Jensen?"

 

"Robo-liver," he deadpanned, walking to the edge of the rooftop.  After a moment of contemplation, he launched himself off of the ledge and began to freefall, activating the Icarus Landing System at the last moment.  When he looked back up, he could see Pritchard, kneeled over with his hands outstretched, looking like he was trying to keep Jensen from jumping.

 

"Did you forget about the landing system, Pritchard?"

 

"No - I did - not -"  The tech panted as he climbed down the stairs and ladder as fast as he could.  "I was just... worried.  Still thought you were drunk."  Through the light of a fire in a nearby oil drum, Adam noticed a red tinge to Pritchard's cheeks.  "You're blushing."

 

"No, I'm exhausted.  Now shut up and let's get back to work,"  Pritchard snapped, huffing and whipping his head to get loose strands of hair out of his face.  Laughing, Adam patted Pritchard on the head and teased, "You know, you could really use some exercise more than your usual amount of none."

 

"You're the brawn, I'm the brains.  Let's keep it that way."

 

"You're right.  Sarif didn't hire you for your impeccable strength."  Adam chuckled gently, turning his head slightly to look back at Pritchard, who was struggling to keep up with his pace.  "Ha, ha."  He would have said something in retaliation, but as the two of them neared Sarif Industries, the CEO himself was standing outside its doors, arms crossed, eyes locked on both of their walking figures.

 

Slightly alarmed, Adam began to jog up the steps.  "Sarif?  You shouldn't be outside, it's not safe."

 

"Worry about yourself, Adam."  Sarif sounded even more defensive than usual, but fortunately, he didn't seem too mad.  "I assume you two were able to make up?"

 

Adam and Frank looked at each other for a moment, trying in their minds to put into words what had happened up on the rooftop.  "You know what, don't answer.  We don't have much time."

 

"Our suicide hacker can't just up and walk away, can he?"  Frank rolled his eyes, oblivious to the glare his boss was giving him.  "Why do you think they locked the body down, Frank?  Someone higher up wants this whole thing covered up.  I just know it."

 

"Care to elaborate, boss?"  Adam huffed, knowing he'd have to either sneak through the precinct or force the desk sergeant on duty to let him in.

 

"You have too much faith in me, Adam.  I don't know anything about it, I just have a suspicion.  I just know that we have to get to the body first.  Frank, get back to your office.  He needs you on blueprints just in case he can't talk his way in."

 

"Somehow, I doubt that.  But I do still have the typhoon to diagnose."  Frank was haughty as ever, seemingly brushing off the events of his and Adam's conversation.  But on his way back inside the building, he shot a look back at Adam, looking conflicted.  Not knowing how to interpret that look, Adam mentally filed the image away turned to Sarif, who said, "We need to figure out who's behind this.  I have a hunch, but I need you to get me that neural hub before I can confirm it."

 

"Anything else you need on my way there, boss?"

 

"Don't act cute, this is serious.  And make sure your CASIE implants are activated before you get in there."

 

"Yes, boss."  With that, Adam took off for the Detroit police department.

* * *

A wave of regret hit Adam as soon as he stepped foot onto the steps rising up to meet the entrance of the police department.  Memories started to flood back to him, memories that he would much rather never have to think about again.

 

Not wanting to appear suspicious (or more suspicious than he already looked) in front of a goddamn police station, he quickly jogged up the steps, avoided the eyes of the officer guarding the front of the precinct, and made his way inside.

 

He felt glad and uneasy in equal measures at the fact that the inside of the precinct looked almost exactly the same as it always had - save for the man on desk duty.  Adam would be lying if he said he didn't immediately recognize the officer.  It was Wayne Haas, that poor son of a bitch.  Swallowing his feelings of guilt, he walked up to the front desk, glad that his shades blocked his eyes from the outside world.

 

"Yeah, yeah, hang on just a sec."

 

Adam decided to let Haas finish whatever he was working on, rather than demand that he be let in immediately.  However, Haas caught sight of Adam out of the corner of his eye and whipped his head up to come face-to-face with the ex-cop.  "Shit.  Jensen...?"

 

"Haas."  Adam resisted the urge to cough awkwardly.  "Surprised to see you here."

 

"Yeah?  Well, I guess you're just better at looking after yourself than I am."  And as Haas sighed, Adam knew - he _knew_ fully well everything that was going through Haas's head as they were having this lukewarm conversation.  

 

His HUD flashed with droves of information as his CASIE implant worked its magic, but even as insensitive as Adam was, he knew he'd have to apologize for everything that had happened in Mexicantown.  But... he also had to get that neural hub.  "I'll cut to the chase.  I don't have time for your self-pity, and I need to get into that morgue."

 

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that that was the wrong thing to say.  "That's it?"  A sour feeling began to pool at the pit of Adam's stomach as he heard the pain in Haas's voice.  "Forget it.  Things are locked down, Jensen.  Orders from the brass - no one gets in.  And even if it weren't?  God, Jensen, the first thing you say to me after almost two years is that you want something from me?"

 

"You want an order?  You've always been very good at following those."  Again, his mouth ran a few steps ahead of him and he immediately regretted saying what he did.  Then again, he did feel a bit bitter.  That child didn't deserve to be gunned down, not just for having augmentations.

 

Wayne's chair squeaked as he leaned back.  "God damn.  Where do you get off being so self-righteous?"  Adam could sense the palpitations of Wayne's heart as the man slowly got angrier and angrier.  "You think I like this?  Look at me!  I used to be a SWAT team commander, Jensen.  Now I'm a crummy desk sergeant at a two-bit precinct - I don't need this from you, I get enough of this at home."

 

It was obvious how much Haas wanted someone to tell him that he had nothing to feel guilty for.  Adam decided to go for the long haul, mostly based on what the CASIE was telling him.  "I'm sorry, Wayne.  I got ahead of myself, and I never expected to see you here, of all places."  The man behind the glass began to open his mouth in angry protest, but Adam barreled along.  "What I mean is that you don't deserve to be treated like this.  You have to realize that no one blames you for what happened but you."

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"You don't need to wallow in self-pity.  I know that thinking about what happened two years ago, it's killing you."

 

"Jeez, Jensen..."

 

"I know exactly what you're going through, Wayne.  We should talk about it sometime."

 

"You... you would do that?"

 

"Of course.  And the thing about the morgue?  I know it's not my risk to take.  I'm not going to force you to do anything, and if you don't let me in, I won't hold it against you."  As an afterthought, Adam added, "Give me a pen and a piece of paper, would you?"

 

Haas looked confused, but complied nonetheless.  After a moment of scrawling some information down on the proffered paper, Adam handed both the pen and the sheet back to the desk sergeant.  "My phone number, email, and office.  In case you ever want to talk things out."  Banking on his intuition, Adam pushed off of the counter in front of Wayne and began walking towards the precinct doors.  One, two, three steps and...

 

"Wait!"  There it was.  Trying to hide the smile on his face, the ex-cop did as Haas said.  "I'll let tell the guys to let you in.  Just... don't forget about me, would you?  

 

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, smiling as genuinely as he could.  "Pop into my office if you ever have the time.  I'll get paged if I'm not out traveling."  This time, he walked towards the doors leading to the inside of the actual precinct, feeling absurdly victorious.

* * *

"Boss, I've got the neural hub.  Looks like it was modified with some type of wet drive.  Pritchard should probably have a look at it."

 

"No, don't bring it here.  He's not finished with his diagnostics, and we can't risk connecting any tech to our networks until he's done.  Just take it to your apartment, I'll send Pritchard over to take a look at it when he's done."

 

Adam, not wanting to make Pritchard have to go out of his way, said, "I don't think that's necessary, he can just -"

 

"Remotely access it?  It's easier if he gets to see the hardware in person.  Besides, isn't this a good chance for you two to get on friendlier terms?"

 

"...I'll call you when I get back, boss."  Hastily shutting off the transmission, Adam stuck the neural hub in his pocket and climbed up the stairs to get back to the front doors of the police department.  After waving to Wayne on his way out, he began to jog to the Chiron building, somewhat... excited to get back.  He kept telling himself it was because he'd had a long day, but somewhere at the back of his mind he knew that wasn't the case.

 

By the time he reached his front door, Adam realized how sweaty he'd gotten on the way over.  The trenchcoat was stylish, but did nothing in the way of functionality, being so heavy.  Discarding all of his clothes and tossing them into his laundry hamper, he padded barefoot to his shower completely naked.  He ignored the shattered mirror (again) and ran the hot water.

 

In the middle of his shower, he heard the doorbell ring.  Cursing, he hopped out of the cubicle and clumsily wrapped a towel around his waist.  "Coming -" he shouted, only to be interrupted by several more rings of the doorbell in quick succession.

 

Rolling his eyes, Adam made sure his towel was secure and took huge strides to get to the door as fast as possible.  When he opened it, who else was there but Pritchard, looking royally pissed off.  His anger dissipated some, however, as he took in Adam's half-naked, dripping figure.

 

"Jensen!  What are you -"  The tech couldn't finish his sentence.

 

"I took a shower.  Last I checked, that wasn't a crime, was it, Francis."

 

"Well... public indecency is!  At least put on some clothes before you - before you..."  Pritchard spluttered, getting redder and redder the more he ranted on.  "Forget it.  Are you going to let me in or not?"

 

"Come on in, make yourself at home."  Adam flourished his arm sarcastically, smirking at the glare Pritchard shot at him.

 

Adam searched around for some clothes, not realizing that Pritchard was standing around awkwardly, eyes shifting across the room.  "Jensen, where is the neural hub?"

 

The man paused in the middle of sliding one of his legs into some jeans.  "On the desk next to the computer.  Feel free to put it in the driver."

 

Frank got to work, all no-nonsense and serious.  However, he wasn't so preoccupied as to not be able to grouse at Adam as he typed away.  "I still don't understand why Sarif made me come here in person - I could just as well have remotely accessed it from my workstation."

 

"Well, he seemed like he thought this would be a good bonding experience."

 

"Do we even have the time?  I thought the situation required the utmost urgency.  Sarif's words, not mine."

 

"Don't ask me.  I'm just the guy who 'shoots the guns'."

 

Silence settled between them.  It wasn't uncomfortable, and Adam enjoyed just watching Pritchard do his thing.  The light from the small spaces between his shutters fell perfectly on Frank's hair and eyelashes, which looked a lot longer than Adam remembered.  Soon enough, Frank noticed he was being stared at and threw a sideways glance at his colleague's direction.  "Is there something on my face?"

 

Startled, Adam shook his head.  "What?"

 

"You've been staring.  I know I can be captivating, but really..."  Thankfully, he trailed off as he began clicking furiously on something on the monitor.  "My god, Jensen.  Your suicide hacker didn't kill himself - this wet drive allowed someone to control his body remotely.  It turned him, quite literally, into a human proxy!"

 

The horror in Pritchard's voice alone was enough to make him alarmed.  "So he wasn't working alone.  You think you can track the source?"  He came up behind the tech and leaned forward to get a better look at the screen, supporting his weight by grabbing the back of the chair Pritchard occupied.

 

Frank just scoffed, but his usual indignation was replaced by a sort of nervousness.  "Who do you think I am?  G - give me ten seconds."  Sure enough, even though his hands shook a bit as he typed in a string of commands, Pritchard had pinpointed the exact source of the hacker's signal in the blink of an eye.  "There it is.  The real hacker tried to hide his location using multiple satellites, but I found him.  He's in an abandoned factory complex in... Highland Park."

 

"Send me the coordinates.  I'll -"  Adam was cut off by the sound of his infolink activating.  "Adam - it's David."

 

"If you're trying to check in on our progress, we've already found the location of the guy pulling the strings.  He's in Highland Park."  Suddenly, feedback kicked into their communication.  "Wait, wait, I've got something else."  It was Pritchard who joined the call, still typing furiously away.  "The backdoor access - there's this persistent transmission coming from Derelict Row."

 

"What does that mean, Frank?"  Sarif sounded impatient.

 

"It means that we need to shut it down.  Nothing's really secure with it active, at the moment."

 

"Alright.  Adam?"

 

"On it, boss."  Adam rose from his bed, walking towards the closet where he kept his commando outfit.  "You wanna come with, Francis?"

 

"Shut it, Jensen.  You and Sarif have already given me enough of a runaround today."

 

Trying to contain his gentle laughter so that Pritchard couldn't hear, Adam finished buckling up his bulletproof vest and walked over to where Frank stood.  The man was in an awkward position, with one foot on the ground and the knee of his other leg resting on the seat of the computer chair.  He looked as awkward as he could get, unsure of what he was supposed to do now that he'd finished his duty at Adam's apartment.

 

"Relax, would you?"  Adam sighed, subconsciously reaching out his hand and tousling Pritchard's hair.  "Just get back to headquarters and wait for me to shut off the signal.  Won't take more than thirty minutes, DRB territory's right behind the building."

 

Perturbed, Frank grabbed Adam's hand to save his hair from any further mess.  "Don't... Don't touch me.  And who said I was worried about you?"  Adam knew Frank well enough to know the man was lying.  "A-anyways, just get to work.  I'll be tracking you to make sure you don't get stuck in a hole in gang territory."

 

Ah, as insincere as always.  Adam shook his head, allowing Frank to lead the way out of the apartment.  "Do you want me to walk you back?"  Adam asked, completely serious.

 

"Don't be facetious!"  Frank scoffed, huffing with anger.  "I can make it back perfectly fine.  Just _concentrate.  On.  Your.  Job_."

"Facetious?  Who, me?"  Adam raised his hands in a gesture of faux innocence, smiling in spite of himself.  "Okay, okay.  Give me a call when you're back at your lab."

 

Frank gave him no answer, instead choosing to stomp away to his motorcycle.  Adam waited until Frank had driven safely out of his line of sight; only then did he begin walking towards the one of the alleyways in his part of the town.

 

Sneaking in was easy enough.  Gang members like the DRB didn't have the technological capability or the manpower to shut down their turf, so it was laughably easy to crawl his way into the heart of their hideout.  As soon as he set foot inside one of the buildings, however, Pritchard's irritated voice blasted into his ear.  "Jensen!"

 

  
_Ow._ "How can I help you, Francis?"  He drawled.

 

"You know why I'm contacting you."

 

"...The transmission that's making a mockery of your security efforts?"

 

"What?  No - I mean - yes, but didn't you tell me to..."  A long sigh drifted into the call before Pritchard spoke up again.  "Never mind.  You're making good progress, but don't let that get to your head.  Just shut it down."

 

"For you?  Anything."  Adam made his voice cloyingly sweet, enjoying Pritchard's little splutter before the call terminated.  Of course he knew why Pritchard called him, he'd asked him to in the first place.  There was nothing wrong with a little bit of teasing, though, was there?

 

He'd had his fun, but now it was time to get back to work.  A few rolls across the pavement, disarming of frag mines, and takedowns later, Adam was on the roof, hacking dutifully into the antenna.

 

"It's done, Pritchard.  That backdoor still open?"

 

"No, thank god.  Somehow you managed to do your job right, for once."

 

Adam rolled his eyes.  So, it was back to square one.  Maybe he shouldn't have been so touchy back in his apartment, since it looked like Frank had a pet peeve about being touched.  Frank's hair just looked so... soft.  He wondered if it was normal to be thinking about his colleague like that.

 

"...Sarif is saying he wants to send Faridah to pick you up."

 

Adam started, looking around shiftily.  "God, no.  DRB is still patrolling the area, aren't they?  I got myself in, I can get myself out without the use of a helicopter."

 

"If you say so.  Personally, I think you're making the right choice, but Sarif is being insistent.  I'll try to stop him, but you should try to get out as quickly as you can in the meantime."

 

"Thanks."  Adam looked over the ledge of the roof, trying to canvas the people on the ground.  Where he was, there were only people to his right, so he launched himself off of the roof, grabbing onto balconies as he descended.  It wasn't graceful, but he didn't want to alert suspicion by activating his flashy Icarus landing system, so he made do with what he could.

 

Getting his feet on the ground took a while, but no one had seen him and he was unscathed, so Adam counted that as a win.  He was still afraid that Sarif would try to send Malik over, so he ran as fast as he could to Sarif Industries while calling Pritchard at the same time.  "Francis!  Tell Sarif I'll be in the building in ten minutes."

 

"Don't order me around, Jensen."  As peeved as the tech sounded, it seemed as if he would do as asked, so Adam gave no heed to his tone.  Without bothering to respond, Adam ran the rest of the way there in silence.

 

As soon as he entered the glass doors, he could hear his name being called over the PA.  "Paging Adam Jensen.  Adam Jensen, please report to your office."

 

Panting, he ascended the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner to barge into his office.  Sarif and Pritchard were both there, Sarif sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, looking petulant, and Frank standing with his back to the window with crossed arms.  "Took you long enough.  You know, if you'd have just let me send Faridah -" Sarif whined, only to be cut off by Frank's high-pitched voice.  "I keep telling you that there would be no reason.  Jensen was right, he and Faridah would be shot at if you'd done what you wanted."

 

Sarif looked to Adam for support, but the security chief just shook his head.  "Sorry, boss.  I know you wanted me to get here as fast as possible, but that doesn't matter so much now. So... Highland Park?"

 

With a sigh, Sarif got up and put a hand on Adam's shoulder.  "Sure, son.  Malik's in her office, but the helicopter's primed and ready.  Let me know when you get there."  Sarif then left the office, leaving Adam and Frank alone with each other.

 

"...Thanks for backing me up, Francis."  Adam turned towards his colleague and began walking towards him.  His movement seemed to bother Pritchard, as the man began taking small steps in the opposite direction.  "You... you better not be being sarcastic.  It was practically nothing, but you know how Sarif gets when he can't do things his way."

 

"Sarcastic?  No.  I just wanted to thank you for sticking out your neck for me.  And for everything else.  Before I leave for Highland Park."  Adam felt extremely awkward.  Where did their bitter banter go?  Looking at Pritchard, it seemed as if the tech felt the same way.  Adam watched as Pritchard shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his head with his eyes glued to the ground.  Pritchard had stopped moving away from him, and they were close enough for Adam to just reach out and touch.

 

"You know... I'm not used to taking you so seriously, Jensen."  Pritchard spoke up, straightening his back and getting enough courage to look his coworker in the eyes.  "It doesn't fit you."

 

"Times are rough.  Sorry to disappoint you."  Adam smirked.  In their closeness, he wanted desperately to just hug Frank, something he knew the man would never allow.  Instead, he brought up his hand to pat Frank on the shoulder, internally flinching at the clear discomfort the man showed at the contact.  "Adam, I -"  Pritchard looked desperate to say something, but both their infolinks began to crackle to life.  "Adam, where are you?  We've gotta go.  Frank, why aren't you in your office?"

 

"Sorry, Malik.  I was just leaving, I'll be down in five.  Frank's here in my office."

 

"In your... oh!  Oh, shit. Did I interrupt something?"  There was a suggestive undertone to her voice, one that Adam mentally filed away to ask her about later.  "You interrupted nothing, Faridah.  I'll let you know when I get the blueprints up in my lab."

 

"Great.  See you at the helipad, Adam."

 

Adam and Frank looked at each other for a split second, unspoken questions filling their headspaces, unable to be put into words.  "I - I'll talk to you after you get back."  Frank brushed past him, almost tripping over the papers on the floor in his haste to leave the room.  Adam simply watched him leave.  He knew Pritchard didn't want to be followed, so he waited a few seconds before leaving the office himself.

 

At the helipad, Malik was leaning against her copter leisurely, waving at Adam as he approached.  "Malik, what did you mean by you interrupting something?"  Adam wasted no time; there was none to waste, anyways.

 

"...Nothing much."

 

"Don't bullshit me.  I'm not stupid."

 

"Alright, alright.  But we can talk about this on our way over."

 

Once they were both strapped in and up in the air, Malik called Jensen over the infolink in order to be heard over the sound of the engines.  "Adam, I really didn't mean anything by it.  Sarif said he'd been trying to get you guys together for weeks now, and -"

 

"What?!"  Adam shouted with indignation, almost jumping out of seat before he remembered they were airborne.

 

"I'm sorry, Adam.  I thought it was pretty obvious.  It wasn't like Sarif was forcing you two to do anything, right?  Just gave you two some time alone."

 

There was no answer for a while, as the cyborg mulled over the events of the past with this new information.  "...Still.  He has no right.  We're not his playthings."

 

"Honestly, Adam, I have to agree with the boss.  Not about the setting you two up thing, but about wanting you guys to become better friends.  He - Pritchard's good for you, and you're good for him."  Malik sounded sheepish, but confident in her resolution.  "You guys are two sides of the same coin, really."

 

"What the hell does that even mean?"

 

"They say opposites attract for a reason.  It's not always true, sure, but it's true now."

 

"Whatever.  Don't encourage Sarif.  If we want something to happen between us, we'll let it happen on our own terms."

 

"And do you, Adam?  Do you think something's going to happen?"  Malik inquired.

 

"I don't really want to be interrogated right before a mission, Malik."

 

"I just want to know.  As a friend, I mean."

 

Reluctantly, Adam struggled to answer.  "It... my feelings don't matter right now.  There are more pressing things to worry about.  Like finding this hacker."

 

Malik chuckled.  "I know you're avoiding the subject.  It's okay, your stunted emotions are a strong point of yours.  Just make sure you don't hurt Pritchard by staying in denial."  Adam felt extremely confused.  "What do you - How - fine.  I like him, okay?"  He was always weak when women tried to get things out of him.  "I want to touch him, but I know he doesn't like physical contact.  I don't want to push anything, and I'm sure he hates me."

 

"I wouldn't be so sure," Malik said, with a knowing lilt to her voice.

 

"Do you know something I don't?"

 

"Just a hunch.  But hey, I just fly the helicopter.  And look, we're here!"  Sure enough, they began their descent.  "We're not done talking about this, Malik," Adam groused, leaning out the side of the copter.  "Drinks on me when we get back?"  Malik offered.  With a gruff affirmative sound, Adam jumped out and crouched in order to make sure no one saw him approach.  "Will do, Jensen."  With those parting words, she took back off, flying into the horizon as Adam watched.

 

What did he feel, really?  Like?  Love, even?  All he knew is that he _felt_ like he really needed a drink.  Suddenly, as he was about to drop into the building through one of the vents, he remembered what Pritchard said before they were interrupted.  " _Adam, I..._ "  Pritchard almost never called him by his first name. 

 

Strangely enough, it put Adam's stomach in knots.


	5. Drawing Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen pursues Brent Radford, looking for answers about his past. In the process, he digs a little too deep and forces Pritchard into a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha ok shit i took so long with this one and it isn't even polished or anything,,, I am so sorry but thank you all for sticking with me and commenting and giving me kudos. your support gives me life!!!!

He was a coward.

 

There was no other way to put it - he was unequivocally a coward, waiting until the last second to... to...

 

God, he couldn't even think it without hesitating.  Apologize.  He wanted to apologize.

 

Recently, Adam had been getting touchy.  Seeking out physical contact at every opportunity that presented itself... which was, truthfully, not that often.  Pritchard understood what it felt like, to be so alone in a fucked up world like theirs... and with Megan gone, Adam had to be hurting.  For all the augmentations Sarif crammed into the man, he wasn't actually a robot.

 

Frank knew all this, but still couldn't just hunker down and let the man touch him.  It was all innocuous - well, as innocuous as it could be, for two men their age - but still.  In no way was Pritchard a prude, but Jensen's casual touches made him uncomfortable above all else.  Sex?  That was easy.  No feelings had to be involved, and Pritchard never stayed over after he and his partner had both gotten off.

 

Men, women, anyone - he recalled his hedonist days where he'd simply carouse around the shady downtown area of Detroit and visit bars, clubs, anywhere dark and grimy, really, waiting for someone to pick him up.  Now, he was entirely too busy with his corporate job - god, that's something he'd never get used to saying - to do _that_ anymore.

 

It confused him - he didn't know if it was because it was Adam that those casual touches felt so intimate.  He didn't have any other experience to go on to be able to tell.

 

In any case, whenever Adam tried to pat him on the shoulder or tousle his hair, he instinctively wanted to move away - and every time he did, he saw the pain in Adam's eyes, the regret, the embarrassment.  He felt bad, even when he knew he shouldn't, but he also knew he should be more forward.

 

The more he thought about it, the sillier it seemed that something so small was bothering him so greatly.  It was interfering with his work, which was, currently, trying to diagnose the backdoor access from the transmission in DRB territory.  

 

Trying to outrun his own thoughts, Frank put his nose to the grindstone and got back to work analyzing the transmission.  It was only a matter of seconds before he ran into the first of many anomalies - this signal had been active for almost a year.  What's more is that he would have known if someone outside of the company had put that backdoor in place, which could really only mean one thing.  It was Sarif who'd put it there in the first place.

 

Pritchard didn't want to think about what Adam would say if he heard about this, with that steely look he wore on his face every time he slipped into his completely professional mode, palpable even with his shades covering his eyes.

 

After a little more digging around, Pritchard couldn't deny it any longer - it was Sarif's fault that Purity First had been able to take over the manufacturing plant.  At this point he had two options: tell Adam about it now, while he was knee-deep in enemy territory, or wait for the security chief to finish his mission and _then_ drop the information.

 

There was no decision, really.  Pritchard would wait.

 

He couldn't help but bite his nails following the hours of Adam's absence.  His newly gained information gnawed at his insides like a parasite.  Too bad he couldn't trust any of the idiots who worked here other than Athene, Malik, and Adam enough to talk to them.

 

With all of his anticipation, he almost forgot that he was also supposed to be monitoring the status of the neural hub.  Bringing the specs up on his second monitor, he checked in to see if there was still radio silence as usual.  There was, but not for long: large amounts of data began to come  through a mere ten minutes after Pritchard remembered to check.

 

He thanked God for small miracles and activated his infolink.  "Jensen, the frequency I've been tracking has gotten a burst of activity.  I think the mercenaries are pulling out."

 

"Yeah, I've... been getting that feeling."  Hearing Adam's voice again, even if it was muddled with static, sent shivers down Pritchard's spine.  He almost hoped that Adam would take his time with the infiltration and let Pritchard assess his options as long as he could.

 

"Do you have any idea who's running this show?"  Adam's voice across the line brought Frank back to reality.  He hummed affirmatively and answered, "I've deciphered as much as I could from the code these guys are using, and I'm fairly sure the one giving the orders is one level below you."

 

"Nice job, Pritchard," Adam practically cooed, causing heat to shoot up Pritchard's face.  He was eternally grateful that they didn't need video feeds to communicate.  "I'll find him."  With that, the communication shut off.  Unless Adam called him back, he was in the dark about what the cyborg was about to do.

 

He just hoped it wasn't anything rash.

* * *

Adam never failed to meet Pritchard's expectations.  Of course he did something rash; when did he ever not?  He would be amused, he thought to himself, if Adam's recklessness hadn't almost gotten him _blown into a million tiny pieces._  


"You're overreacting, Francis," Frank heard him say over the sound of him ranting about safety measures.  "I was barely scratched."

 

"I literally sent you into an arena of death, Jensen!  With actual exploding barrels and gas chambers.  And a man who had a chain gun for an arm, a man who _self-destructed_ when you were less than a foot away from him.  So excuse me if I seem distraught over this whole thing."

 

Adam simply huffed, crossing his arms.  His had his leather jacket on, and the way it shifted under the lights of the security chief's office was almost enough to distract the tech from his anger.  Almost.  "You're not unbreakable, Adam.  Sarif can't make you that way, no matter how many augs he tries to fit you with."  He startled himself with the weight of his sincerity.  He knew it surprised Adam too, with the way his features softened for a fraction of a second.

 

"You said you needed to talk to me about something?" Adam said after a beat, obviously trying to change the topic.  Pritchard didn't really mind, but wished Adam would be more careful with his own god-forsaken life.  "I waited for you in here your office to tell you about the transmission from Derelict Row.  I looked into it, and - well, no one but Sarif could have put it there."

 

Adam's eyebrows furrowed.  "You're kidding.  That can't be right."

 

"I would never joke about something like this, Jensen.  I've worked here for years, and I'd never seen that backdoor before.  No, only Sarif could have put it there without me knowing, and he'd started streaming huge amounts of data through it right after your... _girlfriend_ suggested he hire you."  Don't speak ill of the dead, they say, but Pritchard felt bitter about Adam still trying so hard to find Megan even after she was declared dead.  Irrational, he knew, but he could hardly change his own emotions, now, could he?

 

The cyborg seemed to take a moment to mull this over.  After a few seconds, he said, "I'll talk to Sarif about this.  Can you stay here for... twenty minutes?"

 

Pritchard sighed like it was a great burden for him to waste his time doing so.  "I suppose.  But make sure to actually get some information out of him.  You know how he can get."

 

Adam simply nodded on his way out.  Watching the door long after his colleague had let it close, Pritchard felt sharp pangs of annoyance that he was made to wait once again.  If only the world could ever deem it fair to give him immediate answers for once in his goddamn life.

 

Twenty-five minutes later, Adam returned to the office with a harrowed look on his face.  Pritchard had restrained himself from using the password he gave Adam to read through his emails, practically jumping guiltily when Adam returned to his office.  Adam was silent as he made a beeline for his personal computer and began typing away.  Pritchard was almost afraid to say something, anything, in case it broke Adam's apparent concentration.

 

Ten minutes went by without a word being said.  Pritchard was almost ready to leave and come back later and was halfway off the couch when Adam finally spoke up, albeit through clenched teeth.  "He used the backdoor to get information on my past."

 

"What?!"  Frank plopped back down onto the couch ungracefully, propping himself up with one arm.  "Why would he..."

 

"He thought I would be a... a 'liability.'"  Adam sat down as well, cradling his head in his hands.  "Apparently, there was a private investigator he'd hired to make sure I was right for the job."

 

"Sarif compromised our security... for a _background check_?"  Frank, now fuming, shot to his feet.  "I have half a mind to go up there and punch him myself -"

 

"No.  Pritchard, sit down.  He had to do it without anyone noticing, I get that."

 

"There's no excuse.  He belittled you, me, and most importantly, my work!  Can't you see what a massive invasion of privacy his background checks were?!  His mistake got people killed, Jensen!"

 

"I get it, okay?"  Adam suddenly shouted.  "I get it," he repeated, more quietly this time.  "But he paid the price and came clean.  At this point, that's all that really matters."

 

Pritchard felt the fight drain out of him.  "Was it worth it for him to risk the entire company for some pithy information?"

 

Adam shrugged, turning his attention to the monitors on his desk.  "I guess I'll find out soon enough.  I'm going to find the private investigator and ask him what else he found."  He was already pacing around his office, gathering things in an effort to get ready to leave.  "Should I come with you?"  Pritchard found himself asking.  "N-not because I want to invade your privacy, or anything like that!  Just to make sure you, ah, don't get tricked.  God knows how many times you let yourself get played by misplacing your faith in humanity."

 

Of course he had to make everything into an insult.  He couldn't just say that he wanted to spend a little more time with Jensen, of course not.  Thankfully, Adam seemed to take it in good jest but nonetheless rejected Pritchard's offer.  "That's alright.  This is something I have to do on my own."

 

Pritchard nodded his understanding.  "You know where to find me.  And you better not leave me hanging, Jensen.  I want regular updates so I know you aren't bleeding out in a drain pipe somewhere."

 

Huffing out a short laugh, Adam said, "Will do, Francis."  Before Pritchard could gather up what was left of his dignity and walk out the door, Adam cleared his throat softly.  Frank was almost sure it was just his ears playing tricks on him, but he turned around anyways.

 

"And, uh... thanks.  Again.  For being the only person I can actually trust."

 

Pritchard felt faint.  "Don't get all sappy, you'll make me sick," he snarked as best he could without giving away the funny feeling in his chest.  He knew this was the best time to be earnest, so before he lost his nerve he hastily said, "But for what it's worth, you're the only thing keeping me sane," and swiftly closed the door behind him.

 

Underneath the layers of burning embarrassment, Pritchard felt what he could only describe as elation.

* * *

As much as he wanted to, Adam didn't have the time to analyze everything Pritchard said - and there was a lot to sift through the roundabout way he talked.  However, he had his own problems to face, not to mention an actual job to do.

 

After flitting his eyes over the emails again, he received a new one from Athene calling him up to the penthouse.  Adam had almost forgot about Barrett and his dying words, words he could never believe were true.  On his way up in the elevator, he thought about how he would tell Sarif he had no real leads.

 

"Adam!  I almost forgot, when you left earlier.  We have that lead from Barrett -"

 

"Boss, do you really believe that?  He worked for the enemy and he used his last dying breath to try and kill me.  There's no way he was telling the truth about Hengsha."

 

After rubbing his chin in thought for a few seconds, Sarif nodded.  "You have a point, but we can't just sit around with our hands under our asses."

 

"Boss, I - I have to follow the trail your private investigator found.  I'm sure we can wait a little for the mercenaries to make their move before we make ours -"

 

"I already said, son, that we can't just wait.  I'll ask Frank to trace the lead in Hengsha, and while he's doing that, you can do whatever you want.  But only until Frank finds a lead."

 

That was actually more than Adam thought Sarif would allow.  "That's fine.  You know how to reach me," Adam said, already out the door to the foyer of the top floor.

 

Brent Radford.  The name rang in his ears, his only insight into his obscured and hazy past.  How would he find him?  In a place like Detroit, private investigators didn't stay in one place for long.  He doubted even Sarif would know where Radford was.  Which only gave Adam one option: get Pritchard to locate Radford for him.  Adam supposed he could have taken the time to find Radford himself, but any excuse to talk to Pritchard was excuse enough.  He'd made peace with himself about his desperation, silently praying that Pritchard would be too lost in his SCSI adapters to really notice.

 

Adam's feet took him to the technology lab almost without his brain's permission.  Lost in thought, he didn't realize where he was until he looked up only to come face-to-face with the sign announcing his arrival at the technology lab.

 

Well, it looked like he had no choice now.  With three succinct taps of his metal knuckles, he stood waiting with his hands awkwardly hanging at his sides.

 

It was only a matter of seconds before Pritchard swung open the door.  "I'm busy right now.  Redirect any tech questions you have to the front desk -"  He cut himself off when he realized it was Adam who had knocked.  "Adam!  Why did you... you don't usually knock."

 

"Sorry, I didn't want to impose.  I have something else I need you to do for me."

 

"Well, I suppose it's alright.  As long as it doesn't involve internet connectivity problems."

 

"I thought you were busy?"  Adam chuckled, but got straight to the point.  "I need you to track down Brent Radford."

 

Pritchard tilted his head, causing tendrils of his hair to fall across his cheeks.  Adam tried not to let this distract him (again).  "That's it?  I've already..." He trailed off, cheeks slowly saturating with red.  "Forget that.  Just take these coordinates," Frank disappeared back into his office for a second, only to pop back out soon after.  "And go.  I have better things to do than little favors for you."

 

For Pritchard's sake, Adam didn't say anything about how oddly well-prepared the other man was.  "Thanks.  Seems like I'm asking you to do everything for me, nowadays."

 

"Don't worry about it.  I'm happy to help," Pritchard said, his words stilted.  His face became an even darker shade of red and he quickly retreated back into the safety of his office.  Adam didn't know what to say or do but walk out the door of the building, actively having to stop himself from goddamn _whistling_ on his way out.

 

Did he deserve to feel this happy?  Megan was gone because Adam wasn't able to protect her, and here he was, pining after the same man who had stared at her ass on her way out the elevator earlier that fateful day.

 

...In any case, he tried not to think too deeply about it.  Better men than him would have gone insane by now - it was only luck that Adam had been able to roll with the punches.  He could never stop loving Megan, even after she'd passed.  But maybe... maybe he could learn to love someone else without feeling so guilty.

* * *

Adam stared at the street sign that loomed over him.  Earl's Court... the letters on the sign were distorted by their proximity to the streetlights and the sickly yellow glow they emitted.

 

The fastest way, as always, was up.  Adam climbed his way onto the fire escape of Radford's building, getting off on the top floor.  He had intended to ambush the private detective at the door to his apartment, but it was already open.  It looked as if someone else had gotten there before Adam - chairs lay on the ground, toppled over in a skirmish.

 

Taking caution, Adam stuck close to the wall and listened for any activity.  He could hear what sounded like an old man's voice gripe, "Hey... asshole.  If you're gonna stay awhile... you mind taking... your shoes off?  I just had the floors... waxed.  And if you wouldn't mind... tidying up a little..."

 

The man wasn't just old, he was dying.  Adam didn't bother to let whoever else was in the room return the banter as he snuck up behind a man in a black suit.  It only took a small tap on the shoulder to get the man in shades to turn around for Adam to hit him hard with a right hook.

 

Radford seemed surprised to see him.  "Jensen..?  Christ!"

 

"Brent Radford?"  In any other circumstance, Adam would have had a gentler tone of voice.  However, the man who served as the only lead into his muddled past was slumped against his bathroom wall, bleeding out.  He didn't have time to waste on pleasantries.

 

"In the... flesh.  For now."  Every labored word Radford spat out sounded as if his life was slowly slipping away.

 

Radford knew exactly how much time he had left.  "I keep... a trauma kit around here... somewhere.  Find it and you'll... get the answers you need."

 

Adam thought that he should take him to a hospital instead.  Rather than say that out loud, however, he simply rifled through the cabinets on the vanity until he found what he was looking for.  He'd call an ambulance soon enough.

 

"Sweet Jesus, the pain.. gimme the morphine, quick."  Adam hoped he wouldn't kill the man inadvertently by giving him too much of the painkiller, but it was evident he wouldn't start talking until he stopped feeling the pain.

 

"Alright, I gave you your morphine.  Now talk."

 

"You already know I'm the detective... fuck it.  It hurts to breathe... point is, Sarif pissed off the wrong people when he sent me to dig up your dirt.  He got spooked, and I got shot."

 

"And that's why you're like this.  What people?  What did you find?"

 

"No time to... go into details.  Those sons of bitches... are headed towards my storage unit.  Sarif had me uncover a ton of shit on you... shit even you don't - you don't know.  Your parents... _real_ parents... The tests, the fire... what are you, Jensen?  Some kind of freak?"

 

Adam couldn't understand anything Radford was trying to say.  "Focus, Radford."

 

"I put all... all the information I could find, mothballed it into storage.  In an alley, behind the bank.  Your files are all there - but Michelle... Michelle knows more.  Stop - stop them."

 

Michelle?  "Who -"

 

"Fuck you... you... robot.  You ain't gettin' shit until - until you give me another shot."

 

Reluctantly, Adam complied.  "Ahh... that hit the spot.  I'm already feeling more talkative... robot."

 

He ignored the insults.  "I know you're in a lot of pain, but you need to give me as many details as you can."

 

"In the storage unit... the safe... the safe'll lead you to Michelle.  The suits don't have the right combination.  Four... zero... six... two.  Remember!"

 

"Who is Michelle?"  Adam felt as if he were slowly going crazy.

 

"Heh... she's your - your guardian angel.  Do you robots... can you even believe in angels?  Just... find her before they do.  You owe her... that much."

 

"One last question.  Sarif... what spooked him?"

 

"Tell me... Jensen... do you believe in ghosts?"

 

Adam scoffed.  "You're telling me Sarif was spooked by ghosts?"

 

"Close... enough.  The Illuminati... it's real.  I'd tell you it's bullshit, but something about you... you stink of conspiracies, Jensen.  Enough to make your boss, one of the most powerful men in the world... look away.

 

"You, too... you're a ghost.   A fucking tragedy.  Everything you touch... everything that touches you... dies."

 

The words hit Adam hard.   He couldn't even deny the truth of them.  "I'm... I'm leaving.  But I'll call in an ambulance.  You'll be okay."

 

"No... those fucking animals.  Hit me once in the front, and again... in the back... as I was turning.  They- they fucking paralyzed me."

 

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think -"

 

"I know what morphine does.  I also know... what a nine millimeter round does to... th-thoracic vertebrae on impact.  And I ain't turnin' into no freak, either.  Even if... even if I could afford the surgery... the augments... I'd rather die than turn into half a machine.

 

"There's a few more shots left in the kit... Don't leave me like... this.  This is the closest I'll get to begging you."

 

"...I don't think you wanna die, Radford.  I think you're just scared."  Adam began releasing his pheromones as he continued talking the detective down from his figurative ledge. "I was just like you.  I didn't ask to be made like this, just like you didn't ask for a bullet in the gut.  But you can't blame me, Sarif, or technology for what's happening here."

 

Radford's voice shook and broke as he became more and more riled up.  "I wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you and your damn past!  But I needed the work... the money.  I couldn't even pay for the surgery if I wanted to.  And I can't live like a cripple for - for the rest of my life!"

 

"Look at me, Radford.  I might be more machine than flesh, but I'm still alive.  Still _human."_  


 

"You got heart... for a robot.  Tell you what, I'll play along with this little... after school special you got going on here.  But not because of this... lovey-dovey bullshit charade.

 

"I'll live for the truth... for revenge.  I'm going after whatever sons-of-bitches hired those suits."

 

"Glad to hear it."  Adam almost deflated with relief.  For all the times he'd been in the line of fire, he didn't think he'd be able to assist in someone's suicide.

 

"Yeah - yeah.  And Jensen... I don't know how bad you thought your wounds were.  But your boss... your _friend_ Sarif... he butchered you.  Went too far with... the operation.  You were nothing but a test... and he made you into a weapon.  It almost makes me feel bad for you... almost."

 

The truth wasn't hard to believe.  Adam knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sarif just wanted to use him, that they weren't even close to being friends.  He'd have to ask Pritchard to dig in deeper, because it didn't look like Radford was in any state to give him anything else.

 

Once he was outside, surrounded by the musty Detroit air, he called Pritchard on his infolink.  "Pritchard.  I located Radford.  He was attacked by some secret service types - I'm going after them."

 

"What about Radford?  Were you able to get anything out of him?"

 

"I got enough.  You need to call an ambulance to his apartment, stat.  He's in pretty bad shape."  He paused, wondering if now would be a good time to ask the million other questions he had.  It was good a time as any, he figured, so he kept talking.  "Also... could you look into the file the LIMB clinic has on me?  There was something Radford said about the operation...  Just let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary."

 

"I... I got it."  That was strange.  Adam's request shouldn't have made the tech pause like that, it was far too easy.  Which had to mean Pritchard was hiding something.  He didn't have much time, though, so he reluctantly let it slide, resolving to confront Pritchard about it later.  "...and Jensen..."

 

"Yes, Pritchard?"

 

It sounded as if Francis was considering talking him out of going after the men in suits.  "Don't get yourself killed.  Okay?"  He probably meant it to be standoffish as usual, but Pritchard's voice wavered.  Adam wondered, a bit sadistically, what it would be like to see the man cry.

 

"Aw, Francis.  I didn't know you cared."  Though he might have sounded coy to Pritchard, Adam was so filled with happiness that he was worried that his feelings, bubbling to the surface of his skin, were about to burst out.  

 

Luckily, it sounded as if Pritchard hadn't noticed.  "Don't... don't flatter yourself.  I care about the security of this company, not you.  You getting yourself killed compromises that, so don't be stupid."  He signed off immediately, and Adam couldn't help but smile on his way to the storage unit.  Thankfully, it looked like he was making some headway with Francis.  He wasn't usually so openly bashful - and maybe one day Adam could get him to show some kind of affection, but for now, he was satisfied just being able to hear Pritchard's voice.

* * *

As soon as the comm channel shut off, Pritchard swiveled around in his chair and shot up, pacing around his room in a blind panic.  Jensen wanted to know.  He wanted _Francis,_ of all people, to inform him of the atrocities, of the unforgivable things he let Sarif do.  How many times had Adam said he would have been better off if Sarif had just let him die?  How many times did Pritchard, an uninvited and undetected guest, see Adam struggle with his unnecessary prosthetics while lounging comfortably in his plush office chair?

 

He could lie.  Pritchard could lie to Adam, of course he could.  Tell him he had no part in Sarif's decision to hack off his perfectly good limbs and replace them with overpowered tech, tell him he would have stopped it if he could.  But he couldn't, could he?  Because just standing idly by was just as bad.  Just letting Sarif mangle Adam's body was just the same.  He was a monster, too.  Duplicitous.  Grotesque.  Over and over he repeated in his head that _it wasn't his fault,_ that _Adam was doing just fine._ But he knew better.

 

Pritchard heaved a sigh and stopped burning tracks into his carpet.  There was really only one thing left to do.  He tore out of his office, not even bothering to grab his jacket, and hustled down the escalator and out into the cool Detroit night air.  The LIMB clinic, only a block away, glowered menacingly in the darkness.  Pritchard felt as if he were being challenged.  There was no need, really.  His feet automatically took him to the glass doors, and he pushed his way inside to slam a hand against the glass of one of the receptacles.

 

Startled, Dr. Marcovic flinched back at the impact.  "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait in the - Mister Pritchard?  What has gotten you all in a fuss?"

 

"No time for niceties, Doctor.  Where are Adam's records?"  Pritchard only noticed that he was panting like a Doberman when he saw the condensation forming on the glass.  Composing himself somewhat, he straightened his back and began striding towards the operating hallway without waiting for a response.

 

Alarmed, Marcovic practically flew out from behind the glass and attempted to stop the tech in his tracks.  "Mister Pritchard, these files are confidential.  Besides, I am sure you can get the information you need from Mister Sarif...?"

 

"He refuses to give me the physical copy.  I've seen your emails, Doctor, and I know you feel the same way I do - guilty.  Right?"

 

Marcovic let her guard down, looking thoughtful and a bit apprehensive.  "Well, yes.  No man deserves to have his limbs hacked off to be made into a weapon.  But a contract is a contract, Mister Pritchard."

 

"So help me make amends.  Give me the full file and I can show Jensen what you had to do to him.  He doesn't deserve to be left in the dark by Sarif."

 

"But - Mister Pritchard, you knew about the procedure as well, did you not?"

 

"I know.  I'd like to be the one to tell him everything, including my involvement."  Pritchard hung his head, exhausted by guilt and anxiety.

 

After a few moments of pensive silence, Marcovic pursed her lips as if she had made up her mind.  "Alright.  I'll get you the records, wait here for just a moment."

 

It took a couple of minutes for the doctor to retrieve the eBook, but it felt like an eternity to Pritchard.  When she finally returned, he all but snatched the blue panel from her hands.  "Thank you so much, Doctor.  I really must go, now.  I'll keep you up to date."  With that, he jogged back into the streets, secretively shoving the eBook into his back pocket before he re-entered Sarif Industries.

 

He walked through the main floor in a cold sweat, convinced someone would see him and report him to Sarif.  However, he made it back without incident, and he hurriedly opened his safe to shove the eBook inside.

 

No matter what, Jensen would know the truth.  Maybe Pritchard could at least atone for taking away Adam's future by locking his own behind reinforced steel.


	6. Trials and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam learns more about his past than ever thought he'd be able to, and Frank puts himself out there. Sarif, as usual, is manipulative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh sorry this took 84 years i swear ill finish this when im not sleepy as hecke

In the 10 minutes that it took for him to walk back outside into the dense Detroit air, Adam had found the storage unit.  Thinking back on it, Adam realized that the citizens of Detroit needed to find a better way to store their invaluable secrets.  For the moment, though, he was grateful for the ease of which he would be able to get access to the safe.

 

However, once he rounded the corner he was greeted with the backs of five suited men, all decked out with a variety of sunglasses and guns despite the darkness of night and smog coating the air.  The unit's door was already open, with men inside rifling through the various cardboard boxes that littered the tops of the storage crates surrounding the interior.

 

As usual, the element of surprise was on his side.  In only a matter of minutes he had knocked out all of the agents and piled their unconscious bodies out of sight from the police that were wont to patrol this particular side of the city.

 

Four, zero, six, two.

 

Standing stock still, Adam watched silently as the safe door's lock disengaged with the mechanical clamoring of its internal gears.  Inside he found photographs and a single Ebook.  Confused, he held both items in each hand as if weighing their relative worth, eventually deciding to read the files first before looking more closely at the photos.

 

The contents of the Ebook seemed to be an article about a disastrous accident that occurred in a lab a good while ago.  White Helix Labs... Why did that sound so familiar?  Immediately he turned over the pictures in his other hand, only to drop them in shock.

 

The child looking up at him in the photo - it was him.  Him from decades ago, to be exact - photos from his childhood were just laying in this safe.  Physical copies.  Who knew him or his family well enough to have these?

 

Shaken, Adam almost walked out of the unit without noticing the computer on the lone metal table occupying the far wall.  Almost.  Shaking his head out of his stupor, he walked over to the monitor and began hacking in.  When he was granted access,the first email he found was a vaguely worded correspondence addressed to Radford himself about this mysterious woman, Michelle Walthers.  Strangely, she seemed to be a friend of his father's.  As it turned out, she was senile - getting information out of her would most likely prove to be futile.  He had no other choice but to go to her.  No other person knew anything substantial about his past.

 

Another email was a DNA test report of the possibility of parentage with his Arthur and Margie.  Though the news was nothing surprising (possibility: 0%), he still felt a pang of hurt.  He'd never know who his real parents were, and he'd accepted that a long time ago - there was no time to be sad about trivial things like this.

 

The third email he opened contained an email addressed to... Megan?  Adam had to pause for a bit, but in the end he supposed that it made sense that the investigator invade the privacy of his loved ones to dig deep into his past.  The more he read through it, though, the more he was convinced that something was wrong.  Very wrong.

 

Trying to sift through the admittedly simple scientific lingo, Adam could make out one thing - the genes described in the email were enough to win Megan some sort of Nobel Prize.  Uncertainty coursed through his veins.  She couldn't be talking about... _his_ genes, could she?  No, no, no.  Megan would never do that to him, her conscience would never allow her to.

 

As confident as he attempted to be, he couldn't get rid of that niggling feeling of distrust assaulting the back of his mind.  No, she could never betray him.  No, she didn't keep secrets.  No, she didn't love her work _that_ much.

 

But she did, didn't she?

 

Lost in his thoughts, Adam stopped in the middle of the sewer system to collect himself.  There was no reason to be worried.  Even if she had done something like that, she was dead now.  Being hung up about this would never fix anything.

 

The last email was a negligible conversation about his psych eval, sent to Sarif.  Nothing new.  With Michelle Walther's address in hand, he crumpled up his childhood photos and stuffed them into one of his jacket pockets.  The Ebook he slid into a safer inner pocket.

 

It was time.  He was going to see Walthers and finally clear up the thundercloud hanging over his past.

* * *

It took approximately ten minutes to navigate the concrete jungle of downtown Detroit, ten minutes that Adam spent mulling over what this woman could possibly have in store for him.  What with the photos, the emails, and Radford's near-death, he could only imagine.

 

There it was - the apartment of Michelle Walthers.  With a quick hop up the fire escape, he had no trouble finding the right window, then door to slide in without a sound.

 

  
_Knock, knock._ "Come in!"  A voice that sounded like it belonged to a fragile old lady emanated from the other side of the door.  Without further ado, he twisted the doorknob, which was, strangely, unlocked.  Shouldn't an old woman like her have better home security - or at least someone else living with her to make sure she was okay?

 

"Did I leave my door open?  ...Wait, you're not from Rolling Meals.  You're too handsome to be from Rolling Meals."  It looked as if she was aware of her surroundings, which was good at the very least.  Hopeful, Adam replied, "No, I'm not.  Michelle Walthers, is it?  I'm Adam Jensen."  The look of recognition that crossed her face as he took a seat next to her inspired even more hope within the cyborg, and he leaned forward in deep focus.

 

"No, no... You're much too old to be him.  You must be from Rolling Meals.  And please, it's Ms. Walthers."  Alright, this was a step back then.  No matter - he steamrolled ahead, confident in his determination.  "Brent Radford... Do you remember that name? He's a detective."

 

"Yes, lovely gentleman," Walthers cooed.  "You know, he still has my photos - of Adam, when he was a baby.  Could you be a dear and fetch them for me?  I forgot who has them, though."  She sounded so dejected that she couldn't remember.  Clearly, Adam held a special place in this woman's heart, for no reason that he could come up with.  It scared him, not knowing anything about his past.

 

Adam considered himself lucky that he'd picked up the photos just before arriving at her apartment door.  Pulling them out of a pocket in his coat, he rasped, "Are these the photographs?"

 

Immediately, Walthers brought up her hands to get a closer look.  "Oh, yes, yes, thank you... I - I haven't seen Adam Jensen in such a long time - forever, it seems.  Such a happy baby..."  So she still couldn't recognize him.  Not that he blamed her - who could have known that pudgy-cheeked brat in the photo would have grown up to be a mangled mess of carbon-fiber and flesh?  Trying to be polite as possible, he murmured, "I would love to hear more about the boy in those photographs."  As he spoke, he released a few pheromones for good measure - there was no harm in making the woman happy.

 

"Such a polite and handsome young man!  It'll be my pleasure.

 

"..The boy in the photo... Adam.  Jensen was never really his last name, you know.  We only gave that one to him _after_ the fire."  Trying to quell his alarm, Adam pursed his lips in concern.  "Fire?" He tried not to sound too testy, waiting in anticipation for Walthers to continue with her story.

 

"At White Helix Lab.  That's where Adam and his parents were - at least I _think_ they were his parents.  All those babies... the gene therapy they went through.  But Adam... Adam was special."  The boy - man - in question struggled desperately not to egg her on and let her talk at her own pace, fighting the urge to physically shake her down for more information about his parents.  Grimacing, he asked, "Special?  How?"

 

With wonder in her voice, she gasped, "He survived what they did to those babies!  He was one of a kind!  Then, when we heard they were going to use him to inoculate the next batch of infants -"

 

Adam couldn't help but interrupt her.  "Wait.  What were they doing to those babies?"

 

"I... wish I could remember."  Damn it.  Another dead end.  "I was just part of the nursing staff.  But Adam's parents... they started the fire.  Yes, I - I remember that.  They asked me to hide Adam, and _then_ they started the fire."  With a sad lilt to her voice, she continued, "Poor things.  They never got out in time..."

 

Losing all semblance of pretense, Adam's voice trembled.  "So they set a fire at White Helix Labs, and you hid me?"

 

"No, not you, dear!"  Adam realized his slip too late.  "Adam Jensen.  At least I think that was his name - Wait... I gave him to the Jensens to raise.  They were a lovely couple."  Stars formed in her eyes as she recalled the two, and Adam was beginning to worry that he'd lost her.

 

"Miss Walthers... My - _Adam's_ real parents - who were they?"

 

"I'm sorry.  What were we talking about?  Oh, when are those Rolling Meals people going to get here with my dinner?"  Alright, so that was that.  Hope made sane men desperate, though, so Adam tried one more time to inquire further.  "Miss Walthers, _please._  I know it was a while ago, and remembering all the details might be hard.  But do you think you could try and focus for a minute?"  His words sped up further and further the more the panic set in.  He was _so close -_ he only needed to push a little bit harder.  "What did you tell the detective?"

 

"Well, Mister Radford and I spoke about many, many things!  But... don't you have meals to deliver?  And where is my dinner?"  She seemed almost indignant, the angriest he'd seen her so far. One last time - just one more question, and he'd stop bothering this poor lady.  "Miss Walthers..."

 

She cut him off before he could finish his question.  "I don't want to keep you from your job, especially when it involves feeding me."  This time, she was nothing but sweetness and concern.  Sighing, Adam shook his head and began to get up from the couch.  "Thank you for your time, Miss Walthers."  The resignation was clear in his voice.

 

He was all but out the door when she piped up one last time.  "Oh, before I forget," Adam had never been more happy to be interrupted in his life.  "If you see Adam, could you please give him this?"  She held out a credit chip, which trembled in her weak grip.  "It's for all the birthdays and Christmases I've missed.  I've been saving them."

 

He absolutely didn't want to accept the gift, feeling like he was trapped in a lie - but he couldn't let her down by not taking it.  "I'll - make sure he gets it."  Striding back to her, he gently grabbed the chip and stuffed it haphazardly in his pocket.  "Why, he must be 12 or 13 by now.  Make sure he gets something nice."

 

He couldn't take it anymore.  This woman was too sweet, too soft to fit in his world of hard edges and blood.  Adam needed to get out of that apartment room, and fast.  As soon as he closed her door behind him, he activated the infolink and called for his tech.  "Pritchard.  I need you to assign a temporary security detail to an apartment on Brooklyn Court until I can figure out a more permanent solution.  The woman's name is Walthers.  Michelle Walthers."

 

The response on the other end of the line came back clear, if a bit tinny.  "Security detail?  What the hell Jensen - who is this woman?"  Adam couldn't find it in himself to snark back at his indignation this once.  When he replied, he sounded more tired than anything.  "She's... family."  It felt weird to say that, but he found security in the fact that it felt truer than anything else in his life.  "But she's vulnerable - I'll explain later, just do this for me, _please_.  And not a word to Sarif."  He couldn't have his boss knowing about her, especially after his blunder with the Derelict Row transmission that led to all this mess.  It almost felt as if here were leaping off a bridge when he implored, "Can I trust you with this, Pritchard?"

 

"Christ, Jensen!  Alright, alright.  I'll do it.  But there better be a damn good reason for this."

 

"There is.  I promise I'll fill you in the next time I see you - but right now, I need to get back to work.  And Pritchard... thanks."

 

"Yeah, yeah."  Despite the finality of Pritchard's succinct sign-off and the exasperation in his voice, Adam couldn't help but feel immensely grateful towards his bitter comrade.

* * *

It felt like years since Pritchard had hung up on Adam.  Still waiting for answers, he found it impossible to focus on anything other than ripping the empty wrapper of an energy bar into uniform strips and lining them up on his desk.  Though he had a thousand and one things to do, thoughts of Adam flooded his mind.

 

Who was Michelle Walthers?  And what was she to Adam?  However selfishly, Frank prayed to whatever deity existed that she wasn't some secret girlfriend of his that he'd involved into his life on some ill-advised heroics.  And wasn't that the funniest part about his life now - Adam Jensen had turned him into a god-fearing man.

 

The tech couldn't take much more waiting.  It seemed as if his whole life with Adam in it was just waiting, waiting, waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Just as he was about to pull on his jacket and venture out into the streets to find Jensen himself, despite all the protesting going on outside, the security chief burst in without even a greeting.  "Pritchard.  Did you do what I asked?"

 

"Hello to you too, Jensen."  Though he had meant to sound miffed, he didn't think he was commanding much irritation as he was caught in a strange position, with his jacket on on only one arm and his body posed towards the door like some sort of action figure.  He really was in a hurry, but since the need for haste was negated, he dropped into a more relaxed stance.  "Yes, of course I did - who do you take me for?  You'd better give me some answers right now."

 

"I did promise you that much," Adam chuckled, shoulders drooping in a show of relaxedness Pritchard hadn't seen, well, ever.  He couldn't help the jealousy rising like so much bile in his throat, as much as he tried to tamp it down.  "Michelle Walthers is, well... she saved my life when I was just a baby.  I consider her my grandmother, even though she isn't related to me in any way."  Grandmother?  Pritchard tried not to be too obvious in showing his relief.

 

"I'm glad you found something worth fighting for,"  Pritchard murmured in a hushed tone.  He hadn't even realized that he'd let that slip when Adam gave him a strange look.

 

"Francis, I've always had something to fight for, ever since I met you."  Frank's heart threatened to burst at the sincerity in Adam's voice.

 

Hiding his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes, he scoffed.  "Don't joke about things like that.  You hated my guts when we first met."

 

Adam laughed, of all possible things he could have done in that situation.  He _laughed._ And it wasn't one of his half-hearted "I need to go" chuckles, either.  He was full-body laughing. "You got me there.  But it isn't like that anymore."

 

Seeing the cyborg all gentle and soft scared Pritchard to no end.  "You... you need to stop.  Stop with all the sappy bullshit."

 

Adam's mirth slowly dropped away to confusion.  "What do you mean?"

 

This was as good a time as any.  "I need to show you something.  You won't like me so much after seeing this."  Frank stalked across the room to the safe, viciously twisting the knob with shaking hands.  "This might be a bad time, but I can't hold on to this much longer."  He pulled the eBook out of its metal cage and thrust the offending article towards Adam.  "Read this.  Now."

 

Jensen still had that puzzled look on his face, a look that slowly slid into blankness, then a contained sort of rage as progressed along the medical report.  "What... what is this, Francis?"

 

"Don't play dumb," Pritchard snorted, crossing his arms to hide the nervous trembling of his fingers.  "You know as well as I do that those are Doctor Marcovic's remarks on your condition after the incident."

 

Adam's mouth gaped as he turned his gaze on colleague.  "Sarif just... ignored her?"

 

"Adam.  He ordered the amputations - and I said nothing."

 

The man was silent for a few minutes, no doubt simmering in hatred towards the two of them.

 

Finally, he turned - it looked like it was time for Pritchard's long awaited judgement day.  "So _you_... you didn't do anything to stop him."  Adam's voice was monotone, betraying nothing of his true emotions.

 

"Yes," Pritchard all but whispered, guilt finally clutching his heart in a vice.  "I know it's no excuse, but I don't think anything I could have said would have stopped him.  It was -"   _In the contract,_ he didn't say.  Pritchard didn't think it was necessary - he'd already dug himself six feet under.

 

Another silence ensued, one that was so oppressing that Pritchard could barely breathe.  Adam said nothing, however, and simply shoved his way out of the room, eBook clutched so tightly in his hand that Pritchard was sure it would shatter under the force of his mechanical grip.

 

"And there it is," He whispered to himself, every word he uttered feeling like a cactus leaf scraping its way up his throat.  The only way to describe his intense regret would be to call it a feeling of devastation.  With heavy legs and a heavier heart, he trudged his way back to his plush seat.  Maybe his programs could distract him, as they always had in his teenage years.  The moisture clouding his vision went unnoticed - or ignored - as he typed dutifully away at the relentless code.

* * *

Blissfully unaware of the conflict happening well below his penthouse, Sarif spun his chair in half-circles, back and forth, left and right, as he looked over the data Pritchard had sent over from the DRB signal interference.  It had taken the tech an unusually long amount of time to compile the data, but Sarif couldn't complain when it was right in front of him in stark clarity.

 

Unconsciously, he reached for the autographed baseball that resided permanently at his workspace and began to toss it up and down absently.  Windmill, huh... the hacker who'd gotten through Frank's defenses.  Granted, there had been backdoor access letting the guy right in, but it was impressive to get past his security measures regardless.

 

It was time to take action, he supposed.  Tapping the side of his temple, he activated his infolink and immediately patched Francis.  "Hey, Frank?  You think you got time to trace this Windmill guy?"

 

The response that came back down the line was oddly subdued.  "Sure thing, boss."  Usually, Pritchard would throw in some snark about how it was his job, and how dare Sarif question him for even a second, but the line disconnected just as Sarif tried to ask what was wrong.

 

Well, it wasn't as if he had much else to do in the meantime.  Groaning, he rose out of his chair, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he did so.  On his way to the elevator, he gave a slight wave to Athene.  "Hold down the fort for me, will ya?  I have to go pay Frank a visit."

 

"Certainly, sir.  I hope to see you back soon."  Ah, Athene.  Where would he be without her?

 

Whisting on his way down, he stared out the glass paneling of the enclosed space and looked down, remorselessly, at the mass chaos occurring right outside of his building.  Even as the elevator doors slid smoothly open, he kept right on whistling, nodding hello to the employees that recognized him.  On his way to the tech lab, he saw Adam.

 

"Adam, hey!  Why're you in such a..." Sarif trailed off as it was obvious that his security chief didn't notice him.  He blew past Sarif so fast that the CEO had to make sure that he'd greeted the right guy.

 

So, Adam was storming away from Pritchard's office, and owner of said office had been oddly terse.  Sarif wasn't an idiot, and it took no time at all for him to put two and two together - something must have happened between his two star employees.

 

"Frank, can you tell me why Adam just ran from your room like a bat outta hell?"  Sarif twisted his neck to watch the guy go, taking a half-seat on the edge of his tech's desk.

 

Pritchard looked up, startled, as if he didn't even notice Sarif's entry into his office.  It looked like there were tears in his eyes, but Frank quickly composed himself, brushing a sleeve over his face so quickly Sarif wondered if he'd hallucinated the tears.  Sarif could only think about how little fun it was to have employees that closed off their emotions so well - it only meant he had to actively seek out workplace drama instead of hearing about it.

 

"What do you mean?" There it was again - Pritchard was deflecting, Sarif was sure of it.

 

"Look, son.  I understand if you don't want to tell me whatever sordid things happened here between you and Adam.  But if it starts affecting workplace performance..."  Bingo.  Pritchard's face contorted into a amalgamation of horror and reluctance as he weighed the pros and cons of telling Sarif what had just transpired.

 

"Alright, alright.  I'll tell you.  But don't think for a moment I don't know what you're really up to."

 

Sarif waited patiently as Pritchard got himself ready, pushing gently away from his workspace and rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes.  "He was trying to tell me about his real family, and I said I didn't want to hear it."  What?  That was it?

 

"So... he was offended," Sarif hummed skeptically.

 

"Very.  Sorry boss, but as much as you want me to, I don't want to talk about it."

 

Now, Sarif wasn't sadistic by any means, but he ached to grill Frank about their confrontation.  He just wanted to know what happened, and what Frank had just described couldn't be it.  Sarif knew Adam, and he knew Adam didn't care much about finding out anything about his real family.  

 

"I guess I'll drop it, but I expect you two to be good by tomorrow.  There's still work to be done, right?"  He tilted his head expectantly, crossing his arms.

 

"Yes, I've been working on finding the GPL signals.  I'm confident I can find them by -"

 

"Frank, I trust you.  Just do what you gotta do."  Dismissively, Sarif waved him off and went back to whatever he was looking at on his desktop screen.  As he watched his tech leave, he leaned his hand against the heel of his hand.  So, that was weird.  He wished Athene were there to tell him she'd saw what had just happened - she was always the best at reading people, which is why he hired her in the first place.

 

Sarif knew Adam, and he knew he would never get that irked at Pritchard's admittedly normal standoffish behavior.  It must have been something on Frank's part, then - maybe he brought up Megan again?

 

Whatever it was, Sarif couldn't help but shake his head.  Things were going so well between them, too.  He had banked on the fact that they would get together eventually after Megan's death, since before the incident Megan was Sarif's one failsafe to keep Adam here, working for his company.

 

Of course he cared if they were genuinely happy, but well.  Business is business - who would blame him for playing matchmaker for his own ends?

 

Even as a businessman who had to deal with absolute uncertainty, he knew one thing for sure - Frank loved Adam.  It would only be a matter of time before Adam realized he loved Frank too.


	7. Things Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is sad. Adam gets drunk! Adam is... confused?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA WHOOPS TOOK ME A YEAR BUT HERE Y'ALL GO
> 
> I didn't proofread this, I'll edit out the mistakes later when I catch 'em sorry

Adam... he wasn't angry.  He wasn't even disappointed.  What in the world did he possibly expect from Sarif, really?  And Frank...

 

Adam had a soft spot for him, no doubt.  But even he could see that Frank was too caught up with following orders, too afraid to go his own way while under Sarif's thumb.  Hell, there was no one to blame but Sarif himself.  Frank was just doing his job, and back then, they barely tolerated each other.

 

He wanted to be angry, but he didn't know who to be angry at - so he settled on himself.

 

Without realizing it, he'd ended up in front of his apartment complex, his pitifully morose expression glaring back at him.  Ignoring the strange looks from the people inside the lobby, he took a minute to hold himself back from smashing the glass doors before walking in, breezing past ter Horst with a vindictive purpose in his step.

 

It didn't matter how many liters of 100% pure, straight-up ethanol it'd take.

 

Adam was going to get himself piss drunk.

 

* * *

 

Pritchard considered himself lucky to have the rest of the workday to himself after that impressive blow-up with Adam.  Yes, maybe he was avoiding the situation, but if anyone asked (especially Malik), he could hide his cowardice behind his duty to Sarif.

 

Work was his haven.  His home.  Frank considered the option of staying there overnight to work on his motorcycle, but then his excuses would wear a bit thin.  

 

Wait, who even cared?  Apart from Sarif, no one even knew that he and Adam had had a falling-out.  Pritchard smiled wryly to himself once he'd locked up the office and went out to get his (working) motorcycle so he could go home.

 

But something hit him, right as he was tightening his helmet.

 

What the hell was he doing?

 

Why was he hiding behind work, behind anything to have an excuse to avoid Adam?  This wasn't even his fault.  It would be so easy to just go right up to Adam, talk it out like adults, say that he was sorry.  It wouldn't fix everything - hell, Pritchard didn't even know if it would fix anything - but it would at least be a step in the right direction.

 

Things take time to heal, his therapist had said.  Give yourself a push in the right direction, and change will follow.

 

Before he knew it, he had his knuckles poised to knock on Adam's door.  Looking to his right, Pritchard caught one of Adam's security goons giving him an inscrutable look before he hastily turned away.  Pritchard swallowed audibly and brought his fist down hard on the laquered wood.

 

What greeted him at the door was not Adam.  No, it was a 250-pound robotic labrador that barreled through the doorway, falling over onto Pritchard in something resembling a hug.

 

"Francis!" Adam cried happily, causing Frank to bristle on command.  When he realized that the security guard from before was outright staring at them, now, he pushed with all his might to get Adam back into his apartment so they could talk without making a scene.

 

"Adam Jensen!" he hissed, closing the door behind him while still having to prop up the (extremely) heavy man.  "Are - are you drunk?"

 

Pritchard had never seen Adam this far gone before.  He'd never even witnessed Adam with a drink in his hand, because the one he went out to drink with was... Malik.  He swallowed down the bitterness he felt at being passed over, however illogical the feeling was, and called Malik on his infolink after setting a protesting Adam on the couch.

 

"Pritchard?  What's up?"  She sounded surprised that he'd called.

 

"Adam is shitfaced."

 

There was silence on the line as Malik processed the information, leaving Pritchard to fend Adam's grabby hands off on his own in the meantime.

 

Finally, she spoke back up.  "Are you... exaggerating, or something?  I've only ever seen him tipsy.  He tries to stick to two beers whenever we go out together."

 

"So you're saying that you've never seen him blackout drunk."

 

"Yeah, I guess so.  Is he there right now?  He can get a little handsy when he gets tipsy, but he's never done anything inappropriate."  Frank grimaced at the mental image of Adam and Malik being so... friendly in a bar, mood lighting surrounding them with just the right ambiance -

 

"Pritchard, you there?"

 

"Y-yes!  Sorry, Malik.  I'll see you at work."  Without any further explanation, he ended the connection and brought his attention back to Adam.  The cyborg was now collecting throw pillows to squeeze the life out of, feathers actually popping out of one of the cushions at the force of his attention.

 

"Stop that," Frank sighed heavily, plucking the pillows out of Adam's reach.  "And stop looking at me like that!  Sober Jensen will thank me for saving his pillows."

 

That didn't stop Adam from giving Pritchard his best attempt at a puppy-dog pout.

 

Christ, he was too sober for this.  Out of the two of them, someone had to be, though, so he resisted the urge to drink.  "You're going to bed," he groused, tugging on Adam's arm, "And then we will have a talk about why you got this drunk in the morning."

 

Adam was heavy.  He was so, so, heavy, but Pritchard wasn't going to let the man sleep half-naked on his couch like some sort of animal.  He could get a cold!  Wait.  Not anymore, he couldn't.  Pritchard swore under his breath and blamed the mental slip-up on the toil of having to carry Adam to bed.

 

Adam was heavy, but he was also... warm.  The flush of alcohol Pritchard had seen had extended down his chest, down, down, disappearing into his -

 

Okay.  No.  This had to end, and now.

 

Unceremoniously, he dumped Adam onto his unmade bed and grabbed the sheets viciously, like he was trying to wring water out of them.  Being as rough as possible, he tucked Adam in and stepped back with his hands on his hips to take note of his handiwork.

 

Adam was surprisingly pliant, letting him do his thing... until he kicked his legs out and destroyed all of Pritchard's hard work.  The tech groaned loudly, slapping a palm to his forehead.  "You are a giant manchild, Jensen.  I should leave, _right_ now, and leave you to get hypothermia in your own apartment."  He was right, he told himself.  He should be leaving.  There was work in the morning, and Adam was basically a lost cause.

 

Instead, Pritchard went around to the other side of the bed and sat next to Adam.

 

The silence stretched on for so long that Pritchard thought Adam had fallen asleep, until he quietly said, "Why don't you like it when I touch you?"

 

Well.  That certainly had come out of nowhere.  Avoiding the question, Pritchard scoffed, "Oh, _now_ you're sober enough to talk like a real boy."

 

Adam simply steamrolled ahead.  "I like you.  That's why I want to touch you.  It hurts me when you look at me like I'm hurting you."  He was speaking like a child, but his voice held the same gruffness that it always did.

 

"It hurts _you_?" Pritchard exclaims without thinking.  Great, now they had to talk about this.  He only came prepared for one serious topic of conversation, but he might as well finish what he'd unintentionally started.  "Some people like their space, Jensen.  Learn to respect some boundaries."

 

There was more silence, and Pritchard was afraid that he'd actually hurt Adam's feelings.  "Why don't you call me Adam?  You did it once."  And now the subject changes.  Frank was getting a massive headache, and it wasn't because of his retinal HUD malfunctioning.

 

"I only call sober Jensen Adam," he huffed, throwing the comforter back over Adam's legs.  "Now go to sleep, you insufferable baby.  I've had enough of taking care of you."

 

Surprisingly enough, Adam listened to him.  A few minutes later, Pritchard could hear his steady breathing and got up from the bed, throwing one last look behind him before leaving the apartment.

 

Well... not quite.  Robots could get hangovers, right?  Surely there was no harm in leaving some bottles of water and aspirin on Adam's nightstand.  Right.  No harm at all, he reasoned with himself, setting the supplies down before fleeing the apartment.

 

When he escaped out the door, he accidentally made eye contact with the security guard from before, who was... laughing?  With a scowl, Pritchard stalked off towards the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor like it had personally offended him.  Nothing good _ever_  came out of visiting this godforsaken hellhole of an apartment.

 

* * *

 

Three bottles of water.

 

A bottle of aspirin.

 

A note.

 

Those were the only traces left of Pritchard's late night visit.  With his head in his hands, Adam cussed himself out for choosing that very day to get so drunk he couldn't remember anything from the previous night.  Who was he, a college kid?  A frat boy?  Jesus.

 

He picked up the note, reading it for the fifth time that morning.  All it said was, "Call me in the morning. -F", and he couldn't help but feel like there was something... bad waiting to answer the phone if he did call.

 

However, a transmission from Sarif cut that entire line of thought short.

 

"Omega Ranch.  Singapore."

 

God, Adam wished he could just ignore the call.  He knew what Sarif had done, but if he let on that he knew, Sarif would know who gave him the information.  Adam couldn't - _wouldn't -_  do that to Frank.  Instead, he swallowed his anger, his pride, and three aspirin as he waited for Sarif to continue.

 

Though, when nothing else was said, he sighed into the channel and said, "Boss, you gotta give me more to work with than that."

 

"Oh!  Right."  There was something uncharacteristically uncertain in Sarif's voice, but Adam couldn't quite put his finger on it.  "Sorry, I'm trying to multitask here.  Anyways!  Frank just found Windmill's location."

 

Again, Adam felt like he was totally lost.  "Who?"

 

"Windmill, Adam!  The guy controlling that human proxy!"

 

Oh, him.  The hacker that made even Pritchard nervous.  "Right.  So, what about him?"

 

"Christ, son, keep up, will you?  Windmill operates out of Singapore.  It's not just him, though - Frank thought he saw activity from those GPL implants in the same country."

 

"GPL implants?  Whose?"  He had a sneaking suspicion, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

 

"Megan's, of course!"  Sarif said it petulantly, like it wasn't the most Earth-shattering revelation Adam had ever heard.  "Looks like she's alive.  You... wanna go over there and check it out, right?"

 

Sarif didn't get an answer - Adam had already hung up and got to dressing himself in record time.  Megan was alive.  She was _alive._ Time not spent finding her was time wasted, and he sped off down the street, running as fast as he could to Sarif Industries as he called Malik.

 

"Malik!"

 

"Jensen!  I heard about Megan!  I already have the VTOL up and running.  Get to the helipad, I'm not gonna wait here all day!"

 

Perfect, Adam thought as he shut down the transmission.  It should have been perfect, but...

 

Frank.  Adam needed to talk to the tech, face-to-face.  There just wasn't any _time_.

 

Bile rising in his throat, Adam ran clear past the technology office as he sprinted right for the helipad.  The door was already open, and the propulsion system was online.  The aircraft was ready to go, and without further ado, Adam hopped right in and gave Malik the go ahead.

 

As they ascended, Adam braced himself and brought Pritchard up on the infolink.  When he was sure the connection had gone through, he tried to speak, though his voice was too soft and rough.  "Francis.  I..."

 

"Jensen - Adam.  I know."

 

"Thank you."

 

There was a pause, then a gentle sigh.  "Just come back-"

 

"-In one piece, I know."

 

Another pause.  Another sigh, but louder this time.  "I'm sorry we couldn't talk."

 

"We will.  When I get back."

 

"Is that a promise?"

 

"Yes."  Adam didn't waste any time on jokes, trying to convey just how serious he was by the tone of his voice alone.  It seemed to have come through the transmission, judging from Pritchard's response.

 

"...Oh.  Well, then.  I... I'll see you later."  He didn't even give Adam time to say goodbye and just hung up, frustrating the man to no end.

 

He would have called back, but just then, Malik decided to speak up.

 

"Aw, he really cares.  Amazing how much he's changed from last year, huh?"

 

It really was amazing.  "Yeah," is all he responds with, and when he tries to get back to Pritchard, his call is rejected.

 

He repeats his response, hanging his head between his thighs with regret.

 

"Yeah."


	8. Throw me in the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are even more secrets left for Adam to discover after he reaches Omega Ranch. To him, it feels like every secret is worse than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't take a year to update this time!!!! I'm thinking that this is going to be the second to last chapter. Thanks for sticking with me, y'all!

Frank mentally cursed himself over and over.  "I know"?!  What kind of bullshit had he said now?  He'd felt so guilty about the unwanted augmentations that it hardly felt right stopping Adam from finding Megan, but to just sit and watch the man he loved go halfway around the world to get back with his ex-girlfriend?  He'd really given up now, hadn't he.

 

He knew Adam and Megan wouldn't be getting back together any time soon, but the rational part of his brain had all but been turned off.  Only klaxons fired in his head now, warning him of impending doom.

 

Well, whatever.  No matter what happened, he'd made amends with Adam.  Locating the woman Jensen... loved ought to have made up for something.  

 

Only...

 

Frank didn't know if he could go back to being so utterly alone.  As much as they pushed each others' buttons, Frank and Adam had a camaraderie that he appreciated - not that he was delusional enough to believe that the two of them could maintain a friendship with Frank's bitter jealousy gnawing away at the pit of his stomach.

 

If there was anything he'd sworn to abide by before joining Sarif Industries, it was to never get attached.  Too bad Jensen never learned to play by the rules.

* * *

Frank had lost track of time, alternating his attention between wallowing in the grief of his and Adam's now dead relationship and monitoring Adam's own GPL tracker, watching that innocuous little yellow dot slowly make its way through Belltower's port.

 

He hated feeling like this, listless and ready to jump at the slightest provocation.  Sure, he had the company's cybersecurity to preoccupy him, but with the focus he'd held on Adam's whereabouts, he wouldn't have even noticed if a mob of Purity First members overran the building.

 

Frank pulled several all nighters like that, just watching and waiting for something to happen, good or bad.  His hair disheveled and eyes crazed, he didn't have to lift a finger to make sure no one bothered him - one look at the tech's face and people knew to steer clear.

 

But when had anything ever stopped David Sarif?

 

He flew into the room like a raging tornado, loose papers flying around him fittingly so.  His signature smirk was nowhere to be seen.  Worry overtook his features, an expression of which only deepened when he got a good look at Frank.  "Been hearing rumors around, son.  Heard you haven't left the desk since Adam left."

 

Ah, yes.  Leave it to Sarif to be eerily perceptive yet comically oblivious, all at the same time.  Frank gave a noncommittal grunt, brushing back a few loose strands of hair from his forehead.  "What I do is my business.  Should I be sending out an email to the staff?"

 

David simply chuckled, setting a hand on the desk in front of him.  Wait.  When had Sarif moved from the doorway?  Either he was tired out of his mind, or Sarif was Adam's brand of freakish cyborg ninja.  Fatigue was more likely, but he wouldn't put it past his boss to give himself some "performance-enhancing" augs.

 

"No need to be so testy!  I'm just worried.  You know Jensen will call in if he's in trouble."

 

Frank craned his neck to look Sarif in the eyes, his true emotion (anxiety) showing through sheer sleep deprivation.  "But do I?"  He looked as if he were pleading Sarif for some answers he couldn't find within himself, eyes shining with emotion.

 

Coming to a realization, he paused.

 

It felt as if flames had burst within onto his face, red blooming from cheeks to ear as he stared, wide-eyed, at Sarif.  The man next to him had an enormous shit-eating grin on his face, eyes scrunched up with glee.  Blissfully, though, he remained silent.  That didn't stop Frank from gritting out, "That's not why-!  Don't... don't you dare say a word.  Not now, not to Jensen, not to Malik - no one."

 

Sarif simply walked to the door, swiveled around like the drama queen he was, and backed out of the room with his hands up in fake surrender.  "It's not like Malik doesn't already know."  Frank simply rolled his eyes, face still ablaze with residual embarrassment.

 

Though the intrusion had been mortifying, it had taken up Frank's attention enough so that he'd been able to stop worrying about Adam for even just a few seconds.  That reprieve was short-lived, however, when Adam called suddenly through the infolink.

 

"Pritchard?"

 

Frank gasped like a drowning man and jumped to his feet.  "Adam!  Are - are you alright?!"  His shock was smoothed over with a wave of relief that Adam wasn't shutting him out.

 

He could swear he heard a low, fond chuckle through the channel.  He didn't have time to think about it, because what Adam said next almost gave him an aneurysm.

 

"I'm fine.  I'm just, ah.  Going off the grid for a while.  Not sure how long."

 

"Going off the - Why?  What the hell are you up to, Jensen?!"

 

There was a pregnant pause before Adam continued.  "Just following a lead."

 

Frank was all but tearing strands of his own hair out, inputting commands into his console like he intended to punch Adam's intentions out of the screen.  "Where, exactly, is this lead taking you?"  He sounded much calmer than he felt, manic energy clouding his vision and making him shake uncontrollably.

 

He could hear disembodied yelling on Adam's end, yelling that sounded like orders to... move cargo?  His anxiety only skyrocketed when his question was met with silence.  "Answer me, Adam!  Where are you going?!"

 

"Hell if I know, Pritchard.  Hell if I know."

 

That certainly didn't calm his nerves any.  His panic constricted his throat as he clearly witnessed Adam's little yellow dot blip out of existence.  "Adam!?!?  Adam!!"  Radio silence.  He wished he'd been holding a phone so he could smash it on the ground to take out his frustration, but as things were, he had to settle for punching the wall.

 

He'd worry about repairs when Adam returned.  For now, he got to work getting ahold of Jensen's GPL.  Like hell he'd let Adam go dark - not on his fucking watch.  If Megan and the other researchers could be located after being pronounced dead, Frank was certain he could find Adam.

 

His mind raced as he sat back down in his chair, staring at nothing as the gears in his head turned.  Cargo... Hengsha...  No doubt Adam had hopped aboard a cargo ship somehow and was sailing across the Pacific.

 

Knuckles raw, his fingers took to the keyboard and practically flew.  He swore to himself that he'd get Malik to fly him over the water if nothing worked on land, but his worries were somewhat relieved when he finally saw the yellow dot flash back to life within the wee hours of the morning.

 

His pride in himself almost eclipsed his anxiety, until he realized that Jensen couldn't be reached through infolink.  Then his world came crashing down on him again, only softened by the fact that Adam was clearly up and moving.

 

At least he's alive, he chanted over and over again in his head, hands held in prayer.  At least he's alive.

* * *

6 days.  It had been 6 entire days until Frank heard anything from Adam.

 

In those 6 days, he'd managed to get into several fights with the lower-level staff, drink several gallons of coffee, and even have Sarif genuinely irritated at him.  "Look at me, Frank.  I'm worried too, but I don't take it out on the temps!" he'd yelled.  Frank went home only to shower and sleep restlessly for a maximum of 3 hours a night, if he even slept at all.

 

On that sixth day, Frank had been staring at a full bottle of whiskey in his office, deliberating on whether or not to drink himself into a coma so he'd at least get some semblance of a good night's sleep.

 

"Pritchard.  Are you still there?"

 

He dropped the liquor onto the table and almost had a hernia when he heard the incoming call.  Clutching the edges of his desk, he failed to contain his hysteria and shouted, "Six.  Days.  Six days, Adam!  My god, I thought you were..."  He didn't want to say it out loud, for fear of his worst nightmare coming true.

 

"But I'm not.  I'm fine." Adam said, as if that justified any of the actions he'd taken.

 

"Don't -"  Frank choked on his own words, desperately trying to hold back a sob that was traitorously wrenching its way out of his throat.  "Just... don't.  Where are you now?"  He'd successfully calmed down, albeit only by a little, and was determined to get Jensen back to safety.

 

"I was hoping you'd tell me, Francis."

 

"Lucky for you I'd been tracking you.  You're in Singapore, and-"  The call's signal began to fade in and out, static filling Frank's indignant silence.  He'd be damned if he let a jammer stop him and Adam from talking, not after weeks of separation.  "Give me -- second to disable -- jammer," Adam's broken voice patched through, though Frank was already on top of it.

 

With their combined efforts, it only took a few minutes to restore the quality of their call.  However, it took Frank a moment to find his voice again, unsure of what to say.

 

Adam spoke first.  "You have eyes on the place?"  Ah, as professional as always.  Professional and... cold.  Frank knew Adam would still be mad at him, as any rational person would be in his situation, so he did his best to follow suit.

 

He failed miserably.  Voice thick with emotion, he said, "Yes, I... I know where you are in the building, but I have no idea where you are.  There's been no records of this place that I can find, but I have the name.  If you give me a minute..."

 

"Take all the time you need, Pritchard."  There it was again.  That gruff tone made him physically droop, though it didn't hinder him from doing his job.

 

He never imagined that he'd be thinking this, but he desperately wished that Adam would call him Francis again in that facetious tone of his.  If he didn't close off the communication now, he'd run the risk of bawling into the comms.  "I won't... I won't keep you waiting.  Go find Megan - since you disabled the jammer, I can put her on the map for you.  Pritchard out."

 

Resigned to his fate, he didn't bother waiting for a response.

* * *

 

 Adam couldn't even count how many times Pritchard had hung up on him, but it was only now that he actually felt irritated.  Sure, he might have come off as cold, but he wasn't... livid about the augmentations.  None of the anger was directed at Pritchard anymore, anyways.

 

When he thought back to when they'd first met, he could see that Pritchard had no reason to protest Sarif's actions.  They certainly didn't get along back then, not like they had been recently.  In fact, Adam was mildly sure Pritchard hated him until the night they'd had that heart-to-heart on the rooftop.

 

In his mind, he lined up what he knew.  Pritchard had acted rationally.  Pritchard now cared enough to be willing to risk everything they had between them to show Jensen the truth, the whole truth.  And lastly... Pritchard was letting him go.

 

That was it, wasn't it?  The reason the tech had been so adamant about cutting their conversations short so Adam could find Megan?  He probably expected for the two of them to get back together after this whole mess was over.  When Adam thought about it, it definitely looked that way, with him sailing halfway across the world  to find her.  But any romantic feelings he might have had died when he realized that Megan was almost certainly working for Tai Yong Medical, letting him believe that she'd been dead for almost a year.

 

Regardless of his emotions, he knew he had to find Megan.  Whether or not she wanted to come back was up to her.

* * *

After sneaking through the sprawling and endless hallways, Adam was officially sick of this place.  As he inched ever closer to Megan's location, he noticed a sudden change in decor.  It unsettled him, somehow.

 

When Adam walked into the room, he was overwhelmed with how... colorless it was.

 

The walls, bed, even floor looked as if they were padded like a solitary confinement cell in a mental institution. It was as if he were in a dream, and, seeing Megan alive, Adam wouldn't be surprised if it were.

 

Evidently, Megan had heard him come in.  "Jaron, is that you?"

 

"Not exactly."

 

Adam derived no small amount of joy from seeing Megan spin around so fast that she could have given herself whiplash.  "Adam?!  Oh my god, Adam, it's you... and you're hurt! What happened to you?"

 

"What happened to me?"  Adam scoffed, menacingly closing the distance between the two of them.  "What happened to you?"  He stopped, eyebrows furrowing with anger.  "I risked my life for you!  I came halfway around the world, and for what?!"

 

"I-it's not what you think!"

 

Funny, Adam didn't even know what to think anymore.  "Are you a part of this?!  Staging the whole kidnapping and leaving me for dead?!"

 

Flinching back, Megan almost cut Adam off with her hasty answer.  "No!  No, Adam, I swear, the kidnapping was real!  The attack on SI - they came after me.  They wanted my research!"

 

"And when did you decide they could have it?"

 

This time, Megan took her sweet time to answer.  "It... didn't happen like that.  I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't.  I couldn't!  And then David said we had to use it - we owed it to mankind!"

 

Adam had a bad feeling about this, a feeling worse than when Pritchard had admitted his indifference about his amputations.

 

"David?  ...What are you talking about?"  He almost didn't want to ask, but he was there for answers.

 

Megan, looking even paler, went over to sit on the edge of the stark white bed next to the research desk.  "I... my research, Adam, it's based off of your DNA."

 

Adam followed, his anger only betrayed by his ever-furrowing brow.  Megan tried to reach out and hold his hand, but he wrenched it away. Desperate, she cried, "I wanted to tell you!  I swear!"

 

"So... what, you decided to steal my DNA and use it without asking me first?  Consequences be damned, am I right?"  A cruel smirk broke across his face, though behind his shades his eyes were lifeless.

 

Megan was silent, likely trying to figure out a way to get herself out of the grave she'd dug for herself.  Rolling his eyes, Adam turned and stormed to the door.  "You know what?  Save it.  I'm leaving.  You can do whatever you want - I got rid of most of the guards.  But you're sure as hell not flying back with me."

 

Adam was fuming, so angry that he could barely see or hear, though he felt the metal of the door warp beneath his fingers on his way out.

 

As he was running aimlessly through the facility to get as far away from Megan as possible, Pritchard came through.  "Adam!  Where are you going?"

 

He slowly came to a stop, limply standing in the middle of a dimly-lit hallway.  "I... don't know, Pritchard.  Please, just... get me out of here."  He didn't know if Pritchard had heard the conversation, but he didn't want to think about that right now.  In fact, he didn't want to think about anything except the sound of Pritchard's voice.

 

"Al...alright, well, there's a hangar near your location.  You just have to get the roof open; Malik is nearby, waiting for extraction.  Pritchard o-"

 

"No!"  Adam shouted, unable to catch himself.  "No, just... stay on the line."

 

There was a stretch of silence that made Adam afraid that Pritchard had actually signed off.  His worries were dispelled when a heavy sigh blew into the infolink from Pritchard's end.

 

"I... what do you want me to say?  This isn't a closed channel - wait, be careful, there are two guards around the corner."  Adam dropped down, heeding Pritchard's advice so he could knock the guards out from behind.  "Okay, the way should be completely clear now.  Do you still need me to hold your hand?"

 

Adam smiled softly as he found the button to open the hangar doors.  "I'd love that, actually."

 

There was the spluttering Adam loved to hear.  "J-Jensen, stop.  We can leave the flirting for when you get back."

 

He stood there in stunned silence, simply staring at the hangar doors as they opened with a deafeningly loud screech.

 

"Jensen?  Jensen!  I swear to god, if you hung up before you heard me say-"

 

"I'm right here, Francis.  There's nowhere for me to go."

 

"Not anymore, Spy Boy," a third voice cut in, sounding incredibly smug.  Both Adam and Frank began to stutter, trying to cover up their intimate conversation from seconds before.  "Don't bother!  Heard everything.  You guys really need to get your own private channel."

 

"You weren't supposed to be tuned in," Frank muttered, and Adam couldn't help but laugh as he made his way inside the VTOL.

 

"Get us the hell out of here, Fly Girl," he chuckled, strapping himself in.

 

"With pleasure." 


	9. Call off your Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that changed the rating! Enjoy my sad attempt at fluffy smut, now with minimal proofreading!!!!! 
> 
> Alternate titles for this final chapter, as suggested by my beautiful friends Czi and Bass on the Jensard discord: "Oh No I Appear to be on Fire Now", "Ok Throwing me in the Fire was a Mistake Help", "Ow Ow this is Very Hot", "this_is_fine_dog.jpeg", and "Wake me Up Inside (Can't Wake Up)". Shout out to Czi for giving me the actual title!

As happy as Adam was to see the two people in the world he could actually trust, he couldn't help but spend the whole ride back to Detroit looking desolately out the window.  Malik, bless her heart, kept trying to draw some sort of conversation out of him, only to get a halfhearted chuckle or disinterested grunt in return.  She eventually stopped trying at around hour three.

 

When they were halfway between Detroit and Singapore, Adam suddenly spoke up.  "Malik.  Don't land at SI - let me out at my apartment."

 

"Sure thing, Jensen."  She desperately wanted to ask him hundreds of questions, but she felt as if he could do with some space.  When Adam called Frank, however, she couldn't help but listen in.

 

"Francis."

 

"Adam?  What's wrong?!"  Frank sounded like he was on a hair trigger, waiting for the worst to happen.  Malik couldn't blame him.

 

"I'm _fine_.  Just wanted to let you know that we're touching down at my apartment, not headquarters."

 

"That's... understandable.  I suppose you'd like me to wait for you, twiddle my thumbs as I sit in your mess of an apartment?"

 

"Francis, just... please.  I don't care what you do before I get there.  I just need you to be there when I do."

 

Frank seemed to catch the tired resignation in Adam's voice and agreed without further complaint.  "Alright, Adam.  Just get back safely.  Pritchard out."

 

Malik was somewhat surprised that Frank Pritchard could ever sound so soft, so sentimental - especially when talking to Adam.  Sarif had forseen this, played a part in the matchmaking.  Malik couldn't help but think it was the one good thing Sarif did for Adam without telling him - and so, Malik decided to keep it to herself.

* * *

It took far too long for Adam to return, and Pritchard had gotten so antsy that he'd used Adam's computer to hack into the building's security cams to monitor the roof's landing pad.  He could hear the approach of Malik's VTOL from literally a mile away and booked it to the living room, not bothering with his appearance.  Instead, he simply stood in the foyer, anxiously fiddling with the fringe of his jacket.  He straightened when he heard the approach of heavy footsteps from down the hall, footsteps too heavy to belong to any human other than Adam.

 

When the door opened, Frank crossed his arms to hug his chest.  Tension was spread through every line of his body, and Adam didn't need his CASIE augs to tell.

 

"Francis.  Are you... are you okay?"  He wavered in the doorway, trying to figure out whether or not he should go in for some sort of hug.

 

"I should be asking you that."  The tech took a few small steps closer, head bowed as he refused to look at the other man.

 

Adam bridged the distance between the two of them, though he still refused to touch Frank.  "I'll manage.  All things considered, I think I'm doing pretty well."  He took that moment to retract his shades, which caught Frank's attention for long enough that their gazes locked.  "I'm doing even better now that I get to see you."

 

Frank's face all but burst into flames, and he had to push off of Jensen's chest so he could hide his face and recollect himself.  "Adam, I - don't _say_  things like that!  It's unbearably trite, not romantic."

 

"Your reaction says the opposite," Adam said, and when Frank finally looked back up at him, he saw a smile - not a smirk, a real, genuine smile - that he'd never seen before.  There was something so sad about it, though, and Frank wanted to do anything that he could do make that sadness go away.

 

"Be that as it may, Adam... you know you don't have to be okay.  You should be allowed to grieve what you've just lost."

 

"Who says I'm not?"  The sad smile lingered, pulling Frank back into Adam's space like a slow-rolling tide.  "It's just easier on me knowing that I have you and Malik."  Adam's hand came up to the nape of Frank's neck but stopped right before he made contact, causing Frank to groan in frustration.

 

"Why are you being so cautious?  You had no problems touching me before."

 

"You made it pretty clear you didn't want to be touched."

 

"That was before, and this is... now."  Frank gently laid a hand on Adam's cold metal forearm and took that last step closer so that he and Adam were chest-to-chest. "Unfortunately, and against my better judgment... I've found that I rather like you."

 

Adam's words rolled off his tongue in a honey-sweet rumble.  "Strong words, Francis.  I 'rather like' you too."  That was all he said before tangling his fingers in the tendrils of Pritchard's hair, tugging just hard enough to get the tech to tilt his head back for a soft, sweet kiss.  Frank tensed for a moment before relaxing bonelessly into Adam's embrace.

 

When they parted, that smile made its way back onto Adam's face, as infuriatingly gloomy as ever.  "I've wanted to do that for months," Adam sighed, pulling away so that they were at arm's length.  It seemed as if Adam was still determined to give Frank his space.

 

After a beat, Frank coughed and said, "Well?!  Is that all?"  When Adam stood there like a deer in headlights, Frank rolled his eyes and surged forwards, bringing their mouths together again.  "You're not the only one who's been waiting," he murmured against Adam's lips, probing for deeper access.

 

Adam eagerly acquiesced, leading the both of them to his bedroom while they were still lip-locked.  They moved in a strange dance, torn between wanting to shed their clothes and needing to maintain bodily contact.  They eventually did make it to the bed without incident, naked and desperate.

 

After a bit of jostling, they found comfortable positions on their sides, not quite willing to stop kissing.  When they finally did give their mouths a break, Adam brought a hand to the back of Frank's head and let their foreheads touch.  "How far do you want this to go, Francis?"

 

"As far as we can," he replied without hesitation.  "There's been far too much holding us back.  I don't want to have lost you without us doing this."

 

"I'm here now.  You don't have to do this because you'd feel guilty if we didn't," Adam said adamantly, only to be stopped by Frank's hand splayed on his chest.

 

"Adam.  I... I love you.  I've never been more certain of anything else in my life, so please, believe that I want what I say I want."

 

That was enough to stun Adam into silence.  His brain eventually began working again, and when it did, he flipped them into a position where he was on top and initiated another kiss.  When they'd run out of breath, he buried his face in the crook of Frank's neck and murmured, "Am I your first?"

 

"You're my first _man_ , but I assure you I have experience," Frank corrected Adam, full of snark.  Adam just let out a small huff of laughter, pulling back to reach into his nightstand.  His hand returned as he assumed a sitting position while straddling Frank's thighs, brandishing a small bottle of lube and a condom packet. 

 

They said nothing as Adam covered his fingers in the stuff, Frank watching with fascination as Adam's hand disappeared from view.  The cold press of Adam's fingers was a bit shocking at first, but he relaxed, reassuring himself that Adam knew what he was doing and only wanted to make Frank feel good.

 

The intrusion of a single digit was highly uncomfortable, and Frank let Adam know as much with a pained groan.  Adam gently kept at it, though, and eventually added another finger.  When he crooked his fingers _just so_ , Frank's groan turned into a breathless whimper.  Knowing that he'd found the right spot, Adam relentlessly circled that nub, causing Pritchard to dissolve into a mess of nerves and pure, unadulterated want.

 

"Enough.   _Enough!_ "  Frank's hand tightened on Adam's shoulder in an iron grip.  "Just... just fuck me already.  Enough with this torture!"

 

Adam dutifully pulled his fingers out, distracting Frank with another kiss as he rolled the condom on.  When he was fully prepared, he pulled back, he left one hand in Frank's hair and used the other to guide himself in.  "This might hurt, Francis.  Just breathe and tell me if I need to stop."  Frank just nodded and shut his eyes, trying to relax his lower half as much as he possibly could.

 

With torturously slow movements, Adam pressed against Frank to enter him, keeping an eye on his expression as he did.  Frank, for his part, was trying to take deep breaths as if the air wasn't being punched out of his lungs by the sensation of Adam's intrusion.

 

Adam had gotten the head in before taking a break, stroking Frank's cheek with concern.  "How're you holding up?"

 

Frank let out a small whimper before finding the words to respond.  "You're... too big, god damn you, Adam!"  He was practically wheezing with effort, his hands latched onto the arm Adam used to stroke his hair, grabbing onto the appendage as if it were a lifeline.  "But if you dare stop, I swear, I'll..."

 

Adam didn't let him finish that thought, instead resuming the progress he'd made while mouthing at the skin of Frank's chest.  Frank cried out, partially from pleasure and partially from pain.

 

When Adam had finally bottomed out after what seemed like years, he began peppering Frank's collarbone with reassuring kisses.  "This isn't too much, is it?"  He muttered, using both hands to bracket the sides of Frank's face.

 

When Frank expressed his satisfaction in the form of a kiss, Adam began drawing himself out, an inch at first, before thrusting back in.  The cry Pritchard let out was soft, but pointed.  Adam knew that was a sign to ease up, so he made his next few thrusts far gentler, rewarded by Pritchard's soft keening.  Soon he was rolling into Pritchard in a steady rhythm, repositioning Frank's legs so that he could reach as deep as possible.

 

Frank's hands roamed along the expanse of Adam's back, unable to stay still from the constant sensations crashing through his entire body.  Lines of red rose from the places Frank's nails dragged down Adam's skin, scratches that would remind Adam of this night.  Adam had given Frank a few hickeys to remember as well, though he restrained himself because he knew Frank wouldn't be happy with so many blemishes.

 

Frank, lost in the feeling of Adam within and surrounding him, was now pliant, sensitive to Adam's every touch.  As dazed as he was, he could hardly fend off the speed and intensity of his building climax.  When Adam dragged a hand down the line of Frank's body and pressed onto his pelvis, making the feeling of being filled that much more intense, Frank's eyes snapped open and he fell off the edge with a strangled shout, spilling all over his chest.

 

Adam could feel the onslaught of Frank's orgasm around him and kissed the tech through the aftershocks, losing his rhythm as he approached his own climax.  With one final thrust, Adam came with an animal grunt and drove himself as deep inside Pritchard as he could.  Frank could feel the erratic pulses of Adam's member and began to shiver and moan at the feeling, wishing they didn't need the condom to separate their bodies.

 

As they both came down from their high, Adam captured Frank's mouth in another kiss so he could minimize the discomfort of pulling out.  For a few moments they just laid there panting, side-by-side with their hands clasped and legs tangled together.

 

When Adam caught his breath, he chuckled, "Not bad for a first time, huh?"

 

Frank just clicked his tongue, through the blush that spread to his ears gave him away.  "It was alright.  Don't flatter yourself."  Actually, it was the best thing he'd ever felt, pain and all.  In fact, having Adam as his lover elevated the experience above any other that he'd ever had before.

 

Adam gave Frank a knowing smile and extracted himself from their cuddle pile, padding over to the bathroom so he could dispose of the condom and clean the both of them up.  He returned with a damp cloth, gently rubbing circles into Frank's abdomen.  "Are you hurting?"  He said, voice thick with concern and some unidentifiable emotion.  "I tried to be as gentle as I could."

 

Frank considered retaliating with his usual amount of sass, but he didn't want Adam to worry.  "I'm just a bit sore.  It's nothing I didn't expect."

 

Adam smiled, relieved, and bent down to give Frank a soft, chaste kiss on the cheek as he finished wiping him down.  He made one last trip to the bathroom to get rid of the washcloth, catching a glimpse of the soft red lines running up and down his back as he walked past the mirror.  He simply smiled at the sight, gently running a hand along a line that ran across his shoulder before going back to the bedroom.

 

He sat on Frank's side of the bed, taking his hand.  "Francis, I... I have to tell you something."

 

Frank sat up, faintly alarmed.  "What is it now?"

 

Adam's gaze dropped to the sheets.  "I'm not staying here.  Not in Detroit."

 

He'd expected some sort of protesting or indignation, but Frank just made a small noise of agreement.  "I figured as much."

 

"You're not mad?"

 

"If you're wondering whether or not I'm offended that you decided to tell me this after we've fucked, then no.  I'm not.  I knew there was no way you'd stay working for Sarif."

 

Adam nodded slowly, somewhat taken aback.  "I can't take you with me.  Interpol's been knocking at my door with an offer, and I can't let you get mixed up in all that."

 

Though Frank expected to hear something along those lines, the words still stung.  Swallowing thickly, he let out a heavy sigh.  "I understand.  I can hardly back out of the agreement I have with Sarif, either.  Are you going to tell him you're leaving?"

 

"No.  Only you and Malik.  I don't want him to know where I'm going, so as far as he's concerned, I've dropped off of the face of the Earth, disappeared at Omega Ranch.  As far as I'm concerned?  He's dead to me."  Adam let out a heavy sigh, trying to let go of all the bitterness before he felt the need to lash out.

 

Frank gave Adam's hand a short squeeze before letting go, carefully setting his feet on the ground before rising unsteadily to his feet.  He couldn't help but fear that Adam was still angry at him for his compliance with Sarif's schemes.  A lump rose to his throat, though he tried to distract himself from the feeling of guilt by collecting his clothes off of the floor.

 

Covering the shakiness of his voice, he snarkily retorted, "Well, I suppose I must thank you for telling me now instead of leaving in the middle of the night."

 

"I wouldn't do that to you, Francis."  Adam rose, facing Frank's back.  "I never said it back, did I?"

 

Frank, who was resolutely trying not to show Adam the slew of emotions projected on his face, croaked, "Said what?"

 

"I love you, Francis."

 

It was then that the dam broke, silent tears rolling down Frank's cheeks.  In that moment, Frank hated Adam for saying those words right before he was about to disappear from his life.  "I hope Interpol treats you better than Sarif did," he said numbly, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.  "Rest assured that he won't be hearing anything about your disappearance from me."

 

Frank didn't waste any time gathering the rest of things while Adam remained practically glued to his spot on the bed, watching the tech with dying words stuck in his throat.  He made it as far as the doorway into the living room before having to grip the frame, using it to support his weight as he swayed to the side.  "I suggest you forget about me, about... us.  It'll make the transition easier."

 

Adam wished that Frank would raise his head so he could actually see his face.  "We can still keep in touch, can't we?"

 

"Sarif can trace our calls.  If you want to remain dead to him and leave me out of this, I would advise against that."

 

"You're can make the calls untraceable, can't you?  Please, Francis."

 

"Adam!"  Frank startled both Adam and himself with the volume of his outburst.  "Don't make this harder than it has to be. If... if I can't be by your side, I'd rather not see you at all."  With that, he fled the apartment, leaving Adam slack-jawed and staring at the space Frank had occupied.

 

He thought about chasing after Frank, but he knew it wouldn't change anything.  Adam sat still, staring at the sheets Frank had laid in just minutes before as if he could will him back to the same spot.

 

Outside the apartment complex, Frank sat on his idling motorcycle, trying to force himself to leave.  His eyes remained trained on the front doors, waiting for... waiting for what?  For Adam to come running out after him like they were in some sort of movie?  He scoffed at himself, hiding his mess of tears behind the tinted visor of his helmet and revving the engine, pulling out into the street without a second glance behind him.

 

* * *

**_  
Two years later - Praha_ ** ****

  
Adam stood across Duncan Macready's desk, rethinking his life decisions as he endured the agent's never-ending rant about the horrors of bureaucracy and his failure to file the correct paperwork, or any paperwork at all.  It was times like this that made Adam long for the days where he'd been in charge, but thinking about SI only led to thoughts of...

 

No.  That train of thought never led anywhere good.  Adam decided that he'd had enough of Macready's nagging and interrupted him with a scoff.  "Macready, I don't need you riding my ass about this report.  I'm honestly surprised that you haven't just submitted it already."

 

"As much as I'd love to shit all over your mission report, I do have other things that require my attention, _Agent_ Jensen."  There was no other person in Interpol that could make Adam's title sound so much like "piece of shit".

 

"You sound like you forgot I have a job, too.  Maybe if you'd let me do it, you'd get rid of that stick up your ass."

 

Macready closed his mouth, lips pursed in a tight smile that betrayed his experience with Adam's insubordination.  "Rethink your choice of words.  You're riding on very thin ice, here," he warned through gritted teeth.  Adam rolled his eyes behind his shades, getting up from his chair.  "I'll do it.  Just don't complain if it's not up to your ridiculous standards.  That's what you wanted to hear, right?  We're done here."  He didn't wait for Macready's affirmation before walking out the door.

 

He was just about to clear a path to his desk when he saw that it was occupied.  Having had bad enough of a day, he stormed up behind the intruder and slammed a hand on the back of the seat, swiveling it around to get a good look at who it was.  "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of this..."

 

Adam trailed off in disbelief, withdrawing his hand as if he'd been burned.  He couldn't believe his eyes, having to retract his shades to make sure he wasn't seeing things.  "...Pritchard?!"

 

"I see Prague hasn't done you any favors," the tech laughed, rising from the chair with a small smile spreading across his face.

 

"I - you-"  Adam floundered helplessly for a few seconds, feet rooted to the floor.  His eyes roved over Frank's body, still trying to rule out hallucinations.  "Why - how are you even here?"

 

"That would be my doing, Jensen," said a gruff voice behind him.  Adam whipped his head around to face the source - it was Miller, who was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed.  "Thought it might do you some good to have a familiar face around here."

 

When Adam turned back around to meet Frank's gaze, he added, "Sarif decided to cut my contract short, though he couldn't resist getting some use out of me for a two more years until he told me he was letting me loose a few months ago.  He felt guilty about what he'd done to you, especially after being interviewed as part of your background check.  When I left, well... I decided it wouldn't hurt to give Interpol a call."  Adam knew he'd been stupid not to realize that Interpol would have wanted to ask Sarif about his years at SI, but he could hardly care when Frank was right there in front of him.

 

Lost for words, Adam opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving up and surging forwards for a kiss, onlookers be damned.  Luckily, everyone else in the room except for Miller was too preoccupied with their work to notice or care.

 

"I'll give you two some privacy, time to catch up and all that," Miller coughed, not wanting to intrude.  He turned on his heel to return to his office, running into Macready on the way.

 

"Who's that eating Jensen's face?  Don't tell me-"  The Brit groaned, massaging his temples.  "He's a _security risk._ I can't believe-"

 

"Relax, Macready.  His credentials check out - Chang is gonna have a field day with him.  Just let Jensen have his moment - if they keep at it for too long, feel free to break it up."  

 

He strode off with a secret smile, reminiscing about what it felt like to be young and in love as Macready was left sputtering in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Thank you to everyone who was here from chapter one for coming along for the ride! This is some hot mess, and I'm sorry for doing Mac dirty like I did - he's actually my favorite character in the series.


End file.
